


Play hard, fight dirty

by moonkiller



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bullying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Homophobia, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, M/M, Military Ranks, Power Imbalance, Protective Steve Rogers, Secret Relationship, Teen Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, Trauma, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-03-13 04:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18933628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonkiller/pseuds/moonkiller
Summary: After his recent screw-up, Tony gets sent to an army camp, where he tries to do what he can do best: survive. Between bullies and fake friends, he falls for the beautiful captain Rogers, while his creepy friend sergeant Barnes seems to have it out for him.So, Tony keeps his head high, a smile on his face and pretends nothing can hurt him."Stay. Away from him."Tony gulped.The sergeant seemed to be waiting for an answer, but no way in hell was Tony backing down from this creep."Or what?"





	1. Chapter 1

Tony wished in this moment he was a smoker.

Then he would have a reason to stop what was happening for at least a few minutes, to put the world on hold for a short blissful time filled with smoke and stasis. But Howard was already stepping out of the door, ushering Happy to the car who hurried to put Tony’s bag in the trunk. Jarvis remained stoically standing at the door, posture rigid but eyes full of concern. Tony would have liked to have his mother see him off as well, but they couldn’t risk a paparazzi shot and a media scandal because of Maria’s crying face.

"Get in," Howard commanded while already sitting down in the front seat. Tony slinked into the back seat before Happy could open his door.

It was cold in the car and Tony’s zipped his bomber jacket up to the top, as Happy started the car. Maybe ripped jeans were not the best choice this morning, but Howard’s reproachful look at Tony’s appearance was absolutely worth it at the time.

"You could’ve at least taken the limousine," he complained, hoping to rile his father up, while watching his house disappear in the rear window. The dark aviator glasses on his nose turned everything grey like in an old black and white movie.

His father complied instantly, though the tone of his voice was not as scalding as it had been all week, but just as fed up.

"You should be grateful I even took the time to take you there. You have no idea what important meetings I’m missing because of you."

Howard only took him because he was sure Tony would try to escape. Otherwise the old man wouldn’t even have bothered to say goodbye, would have gladly sent Tony off with Happy if it allowed him to impress some more rich old farts in his board meetings. Tony hated those self-entitled assholes who thought the Starks lived only to please them. If he ever got to lead SI, he would never go to these meetings, let these old men wait until they died.

"The world is not gonna end just because the oh so great Howard Stark misses a show," Tony explained with feigned apathy, voice dripping with sarcasm, but Howard ignored him.

 

The scenery changed from bustling streets to green forests. They reached the military camp in the afternoon. Tony waited in the car with Happy while Howard went off.

The sky was covered in clouds, coating the white camp buildings that lined the entrance in a dark and triste coat.

"You know, he’s just trying to help you," Happy mentioned out of the blue, eyes still fixed on the windshield, "he just doesn’t know how."

_He could just ask me,_ Tony thought but said nothing, not really sure if it was actually true. He had stopped trying to get his father to listen. By now he was just Pandora’s box full of scathing insults and hurtful accusations, waiting for his father to just open his mouth to unleash all his hurt.

"It doesn’t matter anyway," he settled on, not wanting to let Hap feel his anger, and burrowed deeper into his jacket.

After a few minutes his father appeared at his window, yanking the door open.

"Come on. They’re waiting."

For a crazy second Tony thought about begging his father to close the door, to let him go home for the rest of the semester. He thought of grabbing his dad’s cold hand and pressing it between his, like a child that tucked on his parent’s hand to urge them on to get to the playground. Tony only wanted to get home.

But Howard’s impatient "Anthony!" ripped him out of his daydream. The air that hit Tony as he stepped out of the car was freezing cold.

 

*~*~*

 

As soon as Tony’s bag was out of the trunk, Howard and Happy vanished. A man in military uniform showed the teen to a room where an electric razor waited. Tony said nothing while they shaved off his head, sitting with a straight back and his head up high when it wasn’t shoved to the side for better access. He studiously ignored the thick black curls falling like charred leaves to the ground.

Then he was led to his barrack and pointed to a bunk bed. After he had dropped his bag off, he was given a pile of clothes and bed sheets. He dressed in the toilet cabin and couldn’t suppress the panic when voices started to filter in. The new recruits had returned. With a deep breath and lightly shaking fingers Tony opened the bathroom door and stepped in the dormitory, suddenly tense and quiet until a murmur started.

"Isn’t that the Stark kid?"

"That’s him from the video!"

"They really sent him here..."

Tony held his head high while being too aware that he looked ridiculous in the simple military pants and shirt. _Stark men are made of iron._

"Hey, are you Tony Stark?" asked a boy with dirty blonde hair.

"That’s me," Tony announced with a broad smile that he wasn’t feeling.

"I guess it’s true then," the boy answered with a smirk, already turning to his friends, "money can buy you anything."

A groan went through the crowd and Tony saw how curious glances turned suspicious and hostile.

He turned away, ignoring the eyes on his back, waiting for the others to lose interest.

Tony knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. For various reasons. For one, teens used to drop by in military camps in their summer break to get a first whiff of the army life, not in the middle of the semester. But thanks to a generous donation from Howard Stark, they suddenly found an empty cot among the new recruits who had only started their basic training a few weeks ago.

So, while all other boys in his barrack had voluntarily, out of their own volition and this couldn’t be repeated enough, chosen to go through this military hell, Tony was the rich kid on the block who had bought his golden ticket for front-row seats. And all in the name of punishment.

He was lucky if no one teepeed his bed at night.

 

*~*~*

 

No one had teepeed Tony’s bed at night, probably because everyone was too tired, since Tony himself barely got time to consider his new living arrangements.

They were woken at 5 am and Tony even got a personalized message by their drill instructor sergeant Ross, a grey-haired man with an old-fashioned moustache and wrinkles around his serious eyes, who shouted straight into Tony’s ear as the boy dared to just groan and roll over during the alarm. Afterwards, sergeant Ross forced them to run eight rounds on the track behind the barrack quarters.

Tony thought he would die as he tried and failed to keep up with the others, legs shaking and finally giving out as he slowed down. A few spiteful glances thrown back were the last thing Tony saw before his dear drill sergeant planted himself in front of the skinny teen, only to start screaming again.

Tony might have become deaf as he sat in front of his breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon, that was taken away from him only fifteen minutes later as he hadn’t finished in time. Well, he wasn’t that hungry anyway and at least he was able to finish his coffee.

On his way to the second part of his morning training, Tony slowed in front of a field of recruits who were doing jumping jacks. There was one man who was not jumping, who looked like everyone else but stood out like a penny on the ground. Golden wisps of his hair shone in the few rays of sun and the genuine smile on a grown-up, but still youthful face made his stomach clench in excitement. He was tall, taller and broader than all the other recruits around him.

"Stark!!" the already familiar shouting voice of his drill instructor reached him suddenly.

"Yes, Howard," he grumbled, but got moving again.

 

 

They were made to climb ropes in the gym. The other recruits, well used to this routine, didn’t even make a sound as they lined up in three rows. Tony stood at the end and would have sneaked even further back, but the teens that already went through the first round lined up right behind him again and didn’t look like they would budge.

It was Tony’s turn at last and he grabbed onto the rope, lifting himself off the ground. He heard snickers through the gym, but kept his eyes fixed on the end of the rope. Tony knew he was nowhere fit enough to get all to the top, but he was willing to give his best. The muscles in his arms burned as he pulled himself higher, first an inch and after a while, he was well up over the heads of the other recruits.

"Faster, Stark! Or did you fall asleep up there?" sergeant Ross sneered, and the giggles got louder, only to erupt loudly as Tony’s muscles gave out and he started gliding down the rope, palms burning.

Drill sergeant Ross’ shaking head in front of grinning recruits greeted him at the bottom.

"You’re a disappointment, Stark. Next!"

While being chased through the day from one task to another, whispers followed Tony on every step.

"Fag" he heard in passing, "Slut" from somewhere in the group around him, but he kept his shoulder straight, his head high. _It’s better like this,_ he thought to himself. _Dogs that bark don’t bite._

Only when he reached his bunk bed, he saw that all his bed sheets were missing.

This was no problem, Tony told himself as he left the barrack under the snickers of the recruits, on his way to the washroom to get new sheets. This was nothing compared to what could be.

 

*~*~*

 

Except for little jabs here and there, most recruits ignored him the first few days, which was perfectly fine with Tony. Ross was a lunatic, screaming at Tony non-stop for running too slow, showering too hot, eating too much, for not folding his sheets, for not listening or not answering. Which was weirdly familiar.

At least he wasn’t the only one screwing up. He would forever hate jumping Jack’s and sit ups for the rest of his life, and this was just the first week.

 

"Is it true that you got paid?" asked a curious boy the one day during breakfast and Tony saw the recruits nearby leaning in close. He wasn’t sure about what incident exactly the short guy with the twinkling blue eyes was talking about, although he had a suspicion. It didn’t matter anyway.

"Nah. As if I needed money," Tony replied with a smirk, making the other kids screech in glee.

"Fuck, Stark!" the boy expressed his disbelief, shaking his head while sharing amused glances with his friends. Only one guy, a tall black guy with a serious face, got up and left without a word. Tony swallowed the discomfort, keeping the carefree smile on his face while the others started asking him about how much money he really had and if he could smuggle something into the camp.

"Nothing as easy as that," Tony announced lightly and lay his head calculating to the side, "What do you need?"

The boy laughed, holding out his hand.

"I’m Clint. And there are so many things."

Tony smiled, happy he made something like a friend in this shitty place.

"Call me Tony."

 

 On the way to training after breakfast, Tony slowed again at the training field, but he couldn’t spot the blonde man from before. Trying not to quell on his disappointment, he wordlessly followed the others.

In the gym, jumping boxes were lined up in the middle and sergeant Ross instructed them how to jump. Again, Tony stood at the end of the row and again, a hush fell over the group as it was his turn. Tony took a deep breath and let it out. Then he started towards the jumping box, just about to go faster as something tripped him. He fell on his hands, voices whooping around him, and looked up just in time to see the arrogant guy he remembered from the first day, Tiberius Stone he had heard, smiling innocently at him.

"Get up, Stark! We can’t wait all day for you!" Ross called exasperatedly and clapped his hands. "Come on, come on!"

Tony got up, brushed off his knees and went back to the beginning of the line. This time he watched for any stray feet in his path but ended up too slow to get over the box. Sergeant Ross was already turning away from him.

"Forget it Stark. Get back in line."

Under the laughter and jeers of the other recruits, Tony couldn’t help but duck his head down a little.

 

*~*~*

 

In the evening, as the recruits were free, Tony went to the administrative office.

"I just need a short phone call, to let my parents know I’m all right. Please," he whined, making his eyes big and vulnerable, but the lady only shook her head, heaving a sigh.

"No phone calls during the week, everyone has the right for one call on Sunday. That includes you, too, Mr. Stark.”

It was only Friday. Five days since Tony had arrived.

Dejected, he turned around slowly, eyeing the lady behind the desk to decide on the perfect time to slip into the men’s bathroom. That woman would take a break at some point and Tony was a genius. No way was he leaving without a phone call. Making sure he wasn’t seen, he sneaked in and closed the bathroom door as quietly as he could and leant his ear against the wooden board, only to jerk back as he heard a sound from behind.

A man with unkempt hair covering his face, rumpled shirt tucked up around his midsection and dirt stained jeans low around his hips, stood in front of a urinal. His head leaned against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping gravity from dropping the guy straight into the urinal, while his hand vanished in front of his pants. Judging by the smell, the guy was absolutely wasted.

"What," the rough voice grunted, and Tony winced and straightened up, shaking his head lightly.

_Change of plans,_ he thought, after catching the shining plastic in the back of the guy’s jeans glinting in the neon light.

"Nothing, just need to pee," he explained, his voice light and innocent as he passed the man, stopping at the urinal at the far end. The hobo just grunted again, fumbling one-handed with the fly of his pants, but Tony turned away, looking at the dirty drain in the white porcelain in front of him. After the guy had washed his hands and left the bathroom, Tony hurried to zip up his pants and ran outside. In the shadow of the white office buildings, he looked at the phone that he had nicked from the creepy guy. It was password protected, but a fairly old model that he could reboot it with a simple code.

"And I’m back online, baby!" Tony cooed at the old chunk of plastic as he dialled a number he knew by heart.

 

*~*~*

 

The next day, Tony woke up as a splash of water hit his face. "What the fuck!?" he screamed at Stone who was grinning shamelessly with an empty bucket swinging from his hand.

"Morning, princess. It seemed you didn’t hear the alarm."

Others around them cackled, while Tony looked at the watch hanging over the door. It was two minutes before five. No, they were just being dicks.

"Fuck you," Tony grouched while getting up. It was still cold in the morning this early in spring, and Tony dreaded the cold.

Stone and the others laughed as they went back to their beds just as the alarm ringed and drill sergeant Ross entered the room. He looked at Tony between shouts to get ready and head to the tracks but said nothing to him.

The teen gripped a towel to roughly dry his shaved head and his face while putting on his running clothes. At least his head would dry fast.

 

After the training, Tony sneaked off to the camp entrance, hiding behind the fence as he searched the ground for a parcel he had instructed the delivery guy to drop. And bingo, an inconspicuous brown little box waited for him at the third fence pillar. Unable to suppress the bubbling excitement, Tony fist pumped the air and fished out the old brick phone from his pants.

"We made it! Time to buy some friends!" he announced, smiling at the small device.

 

On his way back to the barracks, Tony saw him again. The tall and buff blonde looked serious as he talked with a group of recruits in front of him. When he suddenly whistled, all recruits dropped to the ground, doing push-ups, and the look on his face changed to something proud and happy.

Tony wished he was closer so he could see if the man’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was unfair. Something so gorgeous in this dump of a place, but at least Tony had something worthwhile to look forward to see everyday.

Then the blonde god turned around to talk to someone – someone vaguely familiar, Tony realized. The hair must have tipped him off, even though it was now tied in a messy bun under his army hat. His uniform was clean and tidy, but it was without a doubt the hobo from the bathroom and, oh god, Tony had stolen from an invalid with only one arm.

How could he have missed that?! Was there a way he could sink any lower? The guy’s expression looked thunderous, though, like he had bitten into a lemon. Or like someone had stolen his damn phone.

Tony’s eyes trailed back to the blonde god next to him, who did not appear perturbed by his companion’s expression and just laughed at something he said.

Tony found himself smiling in response.

He wasn’t sure if it was just a play of his mind, but he thought the hobo – no, sergeant, he must be a sergeant – looked up and threw him a passive aggressive glare. Yep, time to go.

_Just act normal_ , he told himself, quickly wiping the dumb grin off his face and slinking back into the shadows, turning back to the barracks.

 

Clint patted him on the shoulder as he put the pack of smokes away. Tony looked around to make sure no one saw the exchange, catching the eyes of the black guy at the end of the dorm, but the young man looked away just as fast, leaving the room to get to the next training session. Tony jumped up and followed him, catching up and just ranting as a way of greeting.

"So, is that your thing? Are you a peeping tom? Though, I don’t judge, as you know, I got my own preferences, so whatever floats your boat, I guess."

The taller boy was at least a few years older than Tony, maybe nineteen. He looked down at the smaller teen and gave a shake of his head.

"I don’t want to have anything to do with you, Stark."

The voice was higher than expected. Tony tried to march in step with him, but the guy had longer legs, so Tony had to skip a few steps

"Hey, so you do know my name! But just Tony is fine. And you are?" He jumped in front of the guy and held out his hand, eyebrows raised expectantly.

The young man sight and shook the hand, grudgingly.

"Jim Rhodes."

"So, Jimmy- " Tony started, but Rhodes’ grip tightened suddenly, and he pulled Tony close.

"Never call me Jimmy."

"Ohhkay?" Tony wheezed and waited until Rhodes finally let his hand go. Damn, that guy got a strong grip.

"So, Rhodes. Rhode Jim. Rhodey. Can I call you Rhodey? Awesome. So, Rhodey, how did you end up here?"

"I want to serve my country," Rhodes answered stiffly while walking ahead, not slowing down despite Tony’s trouble keeping up.

"That’s. honourable. Very patriotic, really. But crawling through mud during rain and wind? I don’t know, I’m not really sold yet. You know, Malibu is really nice this time of the year."

Tony kept blabbering until he crashed into Rhodey’s back who turned around with a stern look.

"This may just be a fun trip for you, Stark, but I have fought hard for my place here. So, if you want to go on and pretend you’re making friends here, do that without me. There’s nothing someone like you can offer me."

"Chewing gum," Tony countered. "We’re not allowed to bring it here, but not being able to brush our teeth after lunch and training while smelling like donkey’s ass out of our mouths? That can’t be pleasant, right?"

Rhodey snorted, frustrated.

"You just don’t get it, do you? Leave me alone, Stark."

With that he turned around.

"Good talk!" Tony shouted before silently following to the training area.

 

*~*~*

 

In the evening, Tony quickly grabbed his towel before heading to the shower with the others, where a young drill instructor was already yelling at everyone to hurry up. They had only two minutes for showering every day, which was an impossible thing to do in Tony’s opinion, but at least everyone was too busy for scathing insults and rude remarks that Tony had initially dreaded.

Just as he slings the towel around his hips, he hears someone shout, "Room check!" and freezes. He hadn’t had any time yet to put the phone away, which was still resting in the pocket of his pants in the dorm. Tony hastily towelled himself off, putting on some clothes while stumbling back into their dorm room. Sergeant Ross was patrolling the bunk bed rows, while two military guys went through the recruits’ belongings. The recruits stood ready at the foot of their beds.

Nervously, Tony stopped in front of his bed, glancing at his pants that he had carelessly dropped on the floor. Checking that no one was watching, he stretched his leg behind and pushed the pants below the bed. There was nothing else he could do about it now.

The cadet on his side came up to his bed, pulled down the blanket and pushed his hands under the mattress, then repeated the process on the top bunk. He checked Tony’s locker, taking extra time to look into Tony’s bag, before closing the closet again and stepping to the next bed. Tony let out a silent cry of relief.

Just when the cadet finished the next bunk bed, a man strode in, marching down the floor until he suddenly stopped in front of Tony. The boy raised his head nervously, meeting the cold blue eyes just a hand width away in an attractive, but angry face. Tony stared silently until it clicked, recognizing the man with the hair bun and the untucked army uniform. The hobo from the bathroom. No, sergeant. Something dark and icy twisted in his stomach.

"Have you checked this kid’s stuff?" the guy asked with a gruff voice. The cadet straightened right away. "Yes, sergeant Barnes!"

"Do it again!" the sergeant commanded roughly, his eyes not leaving Tony, who opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of one word to say. He heard shuffling behind his back, the creaking of the bed, as the mattress was lifted and turned, the sound of clothes dragging on the floor and then:

"Sergeant, I found a phone!"

Tony finally managed to take his eyes off to focus on his bare feet instead, as sergeant Barnes grabbed the phone he was offered. Without a word he turned away, leaving the deadly quiet room. Tony looked up as drill sergeant Ross came up to him with a disapproving look.

"Recruits, thanks to Stark here who thinks he’s above the law, you will get up the next week one hour earlier for additional training. How do suicide runs sound?"

The room was quiet, but Tony felt the dark looks like a visible touch.

"And since Stark does not understand the concept of valuing other people’s property, he will train in his pyjamas. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Tony grumbled through clenched teeth.

"I said: Is that clear, recruit?!" sergeant Ross screamed in his ear, making Tony jump and scream back a "Yes, sergeant!!"

The drill sergeant nodded once, then made his way out of the room. "Go to sleep now! You have an early morning ahead!"

When the door closed, all eyes turned to Tony. "You’re gonna regret this, Stark," hissed Stone, just as the light switched off.

Tony knew he should just hold his tongue, but the words tumbling out of his mouth were almost a reflex.

"I didn’t want to say anything, but a few extra miles would do you good, Stone. Getting a bit out of shape, don’t you think?"

He heard rustling but saw nothing but darkness as suddenly a heavy weight pressed onto his belly and pain exploded in his face.

"Fuck you, asshole!" Stone snarled and brought his fist down once more, "Fucking fag! Just piss off where you came from!"

The older boy lifted himself back up, kicking Tony in the stomach in the process and Tony lay silently, listening for the steps to die down as Stone reached his own bunk bed. Only then did he dare to reach up and touch his nose, which hurt like hell. Pressing down to staunch the bleeding, he lay awake for a long time, listening for any movement around him, heart beating fast and unsteady.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue about military life, so everything I couldn't figure out after a minute of googling, was improvised.  
> Let me know what you think. :)


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, the recruits laughed at Tony who only saw the mess when he stepped in front of the bathroom mirror. He looked like he had sneezed the red sea out of his nose. Some blood had even dripped down onto the collar of his grey sleeping shirt. But having no time to clean it now, he quickly washed the blood off his face and neck best as he could and joined the others. Everyone headed towards the tracks in their sport clothes, while Tony tried to pretend the cold wasn’t biting at his hands and feet.

At the end of the training, Tony’s nose had started bleeding again.

_It’s okay_ , he calmed himself while sitting down at the side under the reproachful eyes of drill sergeant Ross. _This isn’t half bad. Just a bloody nose. A quarrel with recruits in the army. I will soon be back at home and laugh about this._

During breakfast, Tony tried to find Clint’s eyes, but the boy didn’t seem to notice him as he kept on laughing with his friends. On the way out of the canteen, Tony caught up with him and held onto his arm.

"Hey Clint, do you have minute – "

"Whoa," Clint interrupted him and pushed the hand away, "don’t touch me, fag."

Tony froze for a second but forced an easy-going smile back on his face.

"You know, you still owe this fag."

Clint only snorted.

"Not anymore, pal. Running suicides for a week? Seems like a crappy deal. And now fuck off before someone thinks I might stand your guts."

Clint raised his eyebrows suggestively and turned away, shaking his head with a laugh as he headed to his friends, thumb pointing over his shoulder back at Tony as if saying: Can you believe this guy?

_Fuck._ Tony clenched and unclenched his fists, thinking of ways and means to weasel himself out of this mess.

 

His plan led him back to the administrative office, meeting the same young lady again.

"Can I make a call today?"

The woman, Potts read the little label on her blouse, looked surprised, then concerned when she saw Tony. "I’m sorry, but that’s not possible."

 "What? But – it’s Sunday, right?"

Perplexed, Tony looked at the calendar on the wall. It was the first weekend since he came here.

"Yes, but. Mr. Stark, right?"

"Tony," the boy corrected blankly.

"Tony," she repeated more warmly, but her face showed pity, "due to the... incident this week, your phone privilege has been denied by Sergeant Ross."

He was stranded.

Without any electronic device, any friends.

He shortly considered again sneaking into the office to snatch a phone but dreaded the consequences if he was found.

"You might want to have your nose checked by the infirmary," Potts recommended softly, but Tony already turned away.

"I’m fine."

 

*~*~*

 

Tony thought it had been bad before, but he really shouldn’t be surprised.

When he was still young, he had watched cartoons on TV about young heroes rolling with the punches only to get up again and save the day. It was something Tony believed was the truth, that when something bad happened, there was something good waiting behind the next corner. Karma, if you will.

But as Tony grew up, he realized that there was nothing good waiting for him, just the bits and pieces of happiness that he managed to chip away from others.

So, Tony braced himself. He kept his head high up, a sneer and a witty comeback on his tongue for any insult, teeth fletching at the kicks and punches he received in passing. This wouldn’t break him.

And based on his experience, life wasn’t done throwing rocks at him.

Instead, he searched for something good to chip away and found it in an attractive blonde on the training ground. He heard people call his name, _Stephen Rogers,_ always in good spirits like they too are hoping for something good to happen to them.

It was a good name, Tony decided, as he watched him push cadets through a brutal training, clapping shoulders and shouting encouraging words when someone slowed down.

Unfortunately, Sergeant Barnes was just the opposite, always close by, sometimes wearing what appeared to be a prosthetic, sometimes just an empty sleeve rolled up to show its absence, but always looking murderous and sucking the joy out of everyone who got too close.

A walking black hole, easily catching the boy staring from behind the fence, from the shadows of a building or just in passing.

Maybe he should have apologized. But considering the four am training they were all forced through, Tony thought they were even.

 

Days passed painfully slow. Tony got used to hurting, to running everywhere all day long, to being screamed at by older men in uniform towering over him with angry faces. Back in the barracks, Tony kept his eyes to himself. _I’m fine_ , he thought as he heard voices, not whispers anymore, but loud voices now, ranting about him.

"Have you seen Stark’s movie debut?" Stone sneered.

Tony’s body shuddered as he heard a familiar sound from a speaker phone.

_No. No, no, no, no…_

The memories came back unbidden, not really images, but impressions of feelings. Betrayed trust. Shame and hurt. It was there for everyone to see.

He jumped out of his bed and saw Stone with a few others watching a little phone screen, from which unmistakably Tony’s breathy moans were heard.

"Look at this fag! Taking it up the ass," Stone laughed, looking straight at Tony, while his friends cheered, staring at the phone.

Tony saw red. He jumped Stone and barely got a hold on his collar, as he was pushed off of him, landing on the ground. "Grab him," he heard Stone’s voice yell as he felt hands around his arms and legs. "Let’s teach him a lesson."

He was heaved off the ground and carried away, his head hanging down and seeing the shocked face of Rhodes and others upside-down. Then he was in the bathroom and thrown on the floor. They pushed him into a toilet cabin and Tony started to kick out more urgently as he got an idea of what they were planning.

"Let’s show him a good time," Stone laughed lightly, as Tony’s head was suddenly pushed into the toilet bowl.

His forehead connected painfully with the porcelain, while water started to rise into his nose. He couldn’t scream, just tried to strike out with his arms and legs, but there were hands everywhere. Tony panicked. He let out a whoosh of air, his body desperately trying to breath in, but instead convulsing as he breathed water in his burning lungs. His limbs jerked, not fighting to hurt anymore, only for survival, but he couldn’t breathe, and everything hurt.

After an eternity the pressure on his head receded and he lifted his head enough to heave one painful breath before he was back in the water.

_I’m going to die_ , he thought, more shocked than scared.

Someone shouted and Tony managed to lift his head enough for another try to get air back into his lungs, which was hard as he only kept coughing up water.

He looked around manically, but there was only Rhodey sitting next to him with a dead-serious face, his hands raised as if to show they held no weapons, only a towel resting in his left.

His voice sounded haunted.

"Come on, you need to go to the infirmary."

Tony was shaking his head before the older boy had finished his sentence.

"I’m – fine," he rasped between coughs, taking the towel out of Rhodey’s hands and drying his face, his neck, his head, _dammit,_ it was everywhere, clinging to him cold and wet…

"I’m fine," he repeated again, this time for himself, and got up slowly. Rhodey stood close by as if waiting to catch Tony in case he fainted.

Tony snorted.

"You look like _you_ might faint, sourpatch.”

His voice sounded flat in his ears, like coming from a radio, but he had to push through this. He couldn’t give into the panic lurking at the back of his throat.

“I’m fine, let’s go back to sleep. Early morning and all. Which – might be my fault. But. Spilled milk."

Tony waved his hand in the air and ignored how his throat hurt while talking.

It had the desired effect as Rhodey moved again, opening the door and waiting for Tony to step through. He stood by Tony’s bed until the younger teen had laid down and then moved to his own bunk bed.

The room was quiet and thankfully dark, as Tony curled in on himself to find sleep, eyes and throat burning.

 

*~*~

 

In the bright morning light, the previous night seemed almost like a dreamed-up nightmare, if not for the pain in Tony’s throat. He thought he saw Stone and some others smirking at him, but he kept his head low for the most part.

After the morning drill in his pyjamas, Tony was glad not to feel his arms and legs anymore. He spent breakfast trying to swallow porridge and only succeeding partially. The coffee on the other hand was the most beautiful and delicious thing his hurting throat could imagine.

Finishing breakfast, Tony moved on autopilot, heading towards the gym while trying to catch a glimpse of the blond army guy. But no luck.

As soon as the stepped into the gym, he stopped and stared at the gorgeous man standing in front of his group, waving them all over.

"My name is Steven Grant Rogers. I’m a Sergeant –"

"Captain!" a cheer interrupted him, and the group of recruits joined in with hoots, making Rogers chuckle. "It’s just an honorary title, no need to get all formal. Okay? Calm down, fellas."

He grinned at the group cheekily.

"I’ll be responsible for the combat training for the next weeks. I know the last few weeks were not easy for you, but it will only get tougher, so I don’t want you to slack off. Since you have now built a basic level of endurance, we are going to be switching it more up. That means – yes, you might have guessed it, more climbing, jumping and using your surroundings as a part of your training. I believe it is more fun than simple suicides, don’t you think so?"

Tony was enchanted. Roger’s eyes lighted up when he spoke, full of honour and respect, but his charming smile was full of warmth. Tony felt his face heat up over nothing, just looking at the strong jaw and the narrow nose, the wiry throat and broad shoulders. When captain Roger’s eyes landed on him though, Tony couldn’t help but let his eyes fall to his knobbly knees. He could imagine what he looked like in that moment, the only one in PJ’s, small and skinny with a swollen nose. The man probably knew the story behind the choice of clothing. What a whack job, he probably thought while his eyes wandered over Tony’s features.

"From today on, you will also start handling weapons," the captain kept on explaining after a short pause, "Sergeant Barnes here is responsible for that training and will take you to your first lesson later."

Tony’s head shot up again, landing on the dark glare of no other than the hobo sergeant. His hair was down today, and he wore the same uniform as Rogers, but while the blonde had it all buttoned up, Barnes wore the jacket halfway open, sleeves halfway rolled up, looking almost borderline indecent. He wore a prosthetic today, a synthetic hand gleaming under the light.

His glare found Tony quickly, possibly darkening even further, before he turned his head away as if bored.

Tony didn’t dwell long on it until his eyes glued themselves back on Captain Rogers who started to explain the necessity of a strong and healthy body.

Tony ate everything up, though he couldn’t really recall what it was he was hearing.

It was ridiculous, but during the training in which they were made to climb up ladders, Tony hoped he could do it just as well as the others, be just as swift on his feet as the team. But of course, he lagged behind, the last to finish. At least Captain Rogers didn’t comment on it, focusing on complimenting their motivation and effort. Tony left training with a warm, bubbly feeling inside, but dreaded gun training with Barnes.

The older man ushered the group into a room with rows of tables.

"As ya ladies probably never saw a gun, we’re gonna start simple," Sergeant Barnes explained while opening up a box in the front, filled with weapon parts from what Tony could see. Disassembled knifes, handguns and rifle parts. He may not have been involved in SI yet, but Tony knew his business.

"Everyone grab a few parts and clean them. I want to see my face reflected in each of these by the end of the hour."

As everyone got in line to grab a few items of the box, Tony hurried to make his pick and grab a cloth with the cleaning kit before slinking to a seat in the back.

There was no technological quality about the task, but at least it was technical, and Tony could concentrate on the work while letting his mind wander.

Those were no modern weapons as contemporary handguns and rifles were more refined and cleaning them needed a lot of care. These were some good old antiques, easy in their handling, but prone to malfunction due to dirt in the body or wrong maintenance.

As if proving his point, Sergeant Barnes shouted every time a recruit went too rough, skipped the cleaning rod when cleaning the barrel or forgot to use gun oil. The sergeant tended to interrupt and correct instead of teaching in advance, as if scandalized someone would not know how to handle a weapon.

Tony carefully cleaned the finer parts, making sure to use enough oil on the parts that were under friction. Hours must have passed, as they all emptied the weapon crate and collected more and more cleaned parts on their place.

Tony was almost done when suddenly Stone passed him and took the polished bolt carrier while dropping a dirty handguard from his stack. Tony glared at him, but no one was paying attention.

 In the past, he would have gladly made a scene, screaming bloody murder. But now he thought of evenings spent not alone, but worse, with other guys who would grab him and put his head under water. Tony could almost feel the water rising up into his nose, stuffing his ears. By the time he had his breathing back under control, Stone had already walked up to the front and handed all cleaned parts over to the sergeant who nodded once. He seethed inwardly, but his throat stayed closed up.  

Everyone who finished was free to go, so Tony started on the part Stone had dropped off at his table. But again, before he could finish, a passing recruit grabbed one of his finished pieces, putting an untouched part down instead. Tony bit his lip against the injustice, fighting back the rage, and kept on polishing. By the end he looked up to see Barnes stand in front of him. The boy quickly looked down again, not willing to see more contempt for this day.

Barnes was quiet for a moment, before he opened his mouth.

"Ya have been ogling Rogers for quiet a while now."

Embarrassed, Tony lifted his head to realize they were alone.

Barnes stared at him judgingly.

"It will stop."

Just as the man turned around, Tony couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.

"Is that an order, Snape?"

The sergeant turned back around, eyeing Tony with disbelief.

_Yeah, that’s right_ , Tony thought, gaining more confidence by the second, _Starks are made of Iron, you can’t break me_.

"You know, I _do_ think I detected some jealousy there. Scared of competition? Though, you should be, my qualities are quite famous, especially – "

Barnes threw his fist on the table, the loud crack echoing through the empty room. The prosthetic arm hang as if forgotten down by his side.

"Stay. Away from him."

Tony gulped. The sergeant seemed to be waiting for an answer, but no way in hell was Tony backing down from this creep.

"Or what?"

Tony waited, eyeing the older man with trepidation, but his nose high up in the air.

Barnes snorted condescendingly.

"Ya really don’t wanna find out."

For just a second Tony thought the man was actually really good looking. Frightening blue eyes, soft lips pulled into a grim smile, stubble that might be scratchy, but you would have to kiss it to be sure.

Tony _really_ wanted to find out.

And then he remembered he was a teenager full of raging hormones and no alone time. God, he must really be desperate if he considered –

"Hey, Buck! Do – "

The door fell open and Rogers fell in, blinking wide-eyed at the both of them. Just that starry-eyed look was enough to tuck Tony’s lips into a dreamy smile, but one look at _Buck’s_ murderous glare and it was gone.

"Go," Barnes’ rough voice commanded, ",ou have 20 minutes left to get dinner."

Not waiting for another sign, Tony got up and started towards the door, trying not to stare at Captain Rogers and failing miserably.

_Way to go, Stark._

The bubbling happiness left Tony as soon as Rogers was out of sight.

He couldn’t help but eat slowly, to go easy on his throat, but also to delay the inevitable. He felt sick thinking of his bunk bed surrounded by those jerks who were taller and stronger than him, who could grab him anytime and make his life hell. But for once he saw no way out.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Steve smiled dumbly as they made their way over to the office buildings.

"Careful, Stevie. Your stupid is showing."

Steve’s scandalous eyes jumped to his best friend, but his cheeks turned pink.

"I have no idea what you mean by that."

"Uh-huh," Bucky grunted, hiding his amused smile, but his best friend’s attention was already gone as he glimpsed Sergeant Peggy Carter behind blinds.

"God, just ask her out. Or do you need me to step in?"

It was almost like they were children again. Bucky the smooth talker with his stuttering and stumbling little fella Stevie. Even though Steve wasn’t little anymore, he still did that thing when he needed courage, squared his shoulders with a huff and a much too serious expression on his face.

"You do that, and I’ll tell Coulson you want to take over the morning drills. "

Bucky moaned. He hated the morning drills and had successfully wiggled himself out of that duty, relying on his honourable status as veteran that would not even require him to work here in the first place. Usually he disliked using that as an excuse, but damn, some drills started as early as four am. No one should be expected to function at this time of the day.

"Fair point," he acquiesced with a look at the new recruits running to lunch. God, seeing them once a day for an hour was enough for him, thanks.

"You see the boy?" Steve suddenly asked and Bucky followed his eyes to the kid slinking out of the canteen.

"That little fucker who stole my phone?"

"Yeah" Steve ignored the insult, knowing that any reprimand would go unnoticed, ever since Bucky came back.

"I think he’s getting bullied. I saw some kids pushing him around during training, he didn’t even look surprised."

Bucky snorted.

"I’m pretty sure he’s getting some payback. Ross made them get up one hour earlier for the week because of his stunt. Would be more surprised if nothing happened."

Steve gave him his best parental glare which always served in making recruits apologize for their latest fuck up, but Bucky grew up with that look.

"His shirt collar was bloody yesterday."

_Serves him right,_ Bucky thought but was wise enough not to say.

"What else did they expect, sending a rich brat to an army camp?"

"That’s exactly what I mean," Steve sighed, and Bucky waited nonplussed for an explanation.

"That boy didn’t choose to be here. He wasn’t asked to accept the rules, how can he be expected to follow them to the point? Remember how hard basic training was for us?"

Bucky fell silent, remembering those days full of endless punishment.

"I think we broke more rules than that kid managed yet, on a daily basis," he mused drily, making Steve laugh.

"We were lucky we had each other to cover our hides," he agreed happily.

Their conversation came to an end as the office door opened, and Peggy Carter stepped out. Steve instantly mutated to a dork, but Peggy just laughed good-naturedly.

"Hello Peggy."

"Captain," she replied with a twinkle in her eye, making Stevie flush a scarlet red. He would never get over feeling embarrassed about the title. And Peggy would never get over the fact that Steve still never used it, chose to go by his earned army title instead and stayed a drill sergeant for new recruits.

But Steve was the perfect role model for the kids, all earnest trust and honour.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" Bucky asked, shattering the awkward equilibrium those two had going by just staring blankly at each other. Peggy was the first to notice him.

"Oh, well, we like to do what we call the Cap Test."

She smirked at Steve as she motioned them over to her Jeep. She started the engine and headed for the training field where a group of recruits was doing jumping jacks. Bucky recognized them as their newbies when he caught sight of the Stark kid in his dirty PJs.

"So, what’s the Cap Test?" he asked curiously, as neither Peggy nor Steve appeared willing to explain.

The short woman with the neatly coiffed hair smiled.

"That."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"Grenade!!" someone screamed, and Tony barely had time to look around before he was pushed to the ground by suddenly moving bodies. He landed on all fours, face smashed in the cold dirt, as his eyes adjusted to make out a small black device right in front of his nose.

He knew what it was, knew the build of it by heart, knew the hidden strength inside that plain little shell.

And he would have recognized the logo printed on it everywhere: S. I.

"Fuck."

Tony thought time had stood still. Nothing moved and he waited for his life to flash before his eyes. It was kind of ironic, wasn’t it? Killed by his father’s creation, a son for a bomb.

"Recruit, are you alright?" a hesitant voice ripped him out of his reverie. Tony looked around to see his fellow recruits staring at him from a safe distance, behind rocks and wood crates, some crouching behind a vehicle where, oh god, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes and another woman were staring at him.  Someone started giggling.

"It was a gag!"

"What the hell are you doing, Stark?" Stone laughed, others following his example.

"Idiot just froze up! Got a death wish or something?"

Tony hastily scrambled into his feet, spitting out dirt that had somehow found its way into his mouth.

"Stark," a strong female voice called, and Tony turned towards the beautiful lady dressed in military uniform, but with a skirt instead of pants like the sergeants behind her.

"Did you get hurt?"

"I’m fine." He replied quickly, only then feeling the sensation of pain on his cheek where he had been pressed to the ground. He must look like a fool, he thought with shame burning in his eyes.

No wonder everyone kept staring at him like a freak. Why didn’t he hide like the others?

"To the infirmary, Stark," she commanded and turned back to the other recruits.

"And the rest of you, hundred fifty sit-ups! Your comrade could have been hurt and no one thought of helping him! Shame on you!"

Tony wanted to repeat that he was okay, no harm done, he wasn’t even worried, really, but then Captain Rogers looked at him full of concern.

"Come on, I’ll take you to the infirmary."

His voice was soothing and his gorgeous blue eyes, resting on a Tony, made his face feel warm all of a sudden and Tony found himself biting his lip, nodding.

Rogers smiled at him satisfied and put an arm around his shoulder, leading him off. As they passed Sergeant Barnes, Tony saw the man’s pissed off face looking straight at him. Weirdly, it made Tony lift his head high again, like taking a challenge.

_Or what?_

Rogers warm palm on his small back gave him even more courage.

 

Dr. Strange was a scary person, who informed Tony his nose was bruised, but not broken before he even sat down.

"Thanks," he mumbled tiredly, as the doctor pressed an ice pack on his face after cleaning the bruise on his cheek. The older man eyed him calculatingly, drawing his thumb and index finger over his fancy facial hair, looking like he was solving a puzzle. Tony hated that look. As if he was that easy to figure out.

"Is it hard to trim a beard like that? I think I want one. Looks all intimidating, just. Stroking the beard. Like an evil mastermind without a cat."

"Since when does your throat hurt, Mr. Stark?" the doctor asked conversationally.

Tony smiled, hoping his shoulders didn’t stiffen.

"I think I have a cold. I was clever enough to borrow a phone, but not clever enough to bring it back in time, you see. Therefore, voila, my revealing dress code for a week. But really, I think it’s more for Sergeant Ross’ benefit. The way he eyes my assets is not appropriate playground behaviour, if you know what I mean. But hey, if you got it –"

"It’s not a cold," Dr. Strange stated firmly, interrupting him as if he hadn’t been listening. His eyes traced the boy’s neck and Tony knew what he saw, or rather didn’t.

"I would advise you to seek out Miss Romanoff, if your... cold gets worse. She’s our camp counsellor."

With that, Dr. Strange got up and opened the door for Tony to step out. The boy hovered at the door.

"Is Miss Romanoff as creepy as you?"

The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitched.

"Definitely worse."

 

Equipped with the ice pack, Tony met the captain in the waiting room, pleasantly surprised that the man had waited for him.

"How do you feel?" he asked full of concern and Tony nodded his head, smiling like an idiot.

"Great! I mean okay. Considering the injury. Which I will survive because, you know. Just a scratch, literally."

Rogers mirrored his smile as if Tony’s word vomit was not worrisome at all.

"That’s good to hear. You know, Sergeant Carter didn’t mean to pull a joke on you. It was just an experiment of sorts, something she tries with all new recruits."

Embarrassed, the taller man scratched begin his head and Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away.

"Uh-huh."

"So, don’t take it personally. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

_Anything?_ Tony’s brain short functioned. Hopefully his face didn’t show the direction his brain cells took him. _Oh, all the possibilities_ …

"Stark?... Anthony?"

"Tony. Just Tony is fine," he pressed out and bit his lips to keep himself from mumbling things that better stayed in the filthy dark of his mind.

"Well, Tony, then you can call me Steve. But only if no one is listening." Roger’s grinned conspiratorially. Tony could swear he heard his heart flutter and he allowed himself an honest smile.

"Okay. Steve."

"Now you should head back, your team is probably worried about you."

Tony nodded, trying not to lose his smile.

"Yeah. Thank you."

He threw a final glance over his shoulder to see, yep, Steve still looking at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy about the positive feedback the first chapter received, thank you so much!  
> I'm adding warnings as the story will get more intense, so please be warned. I'll post the next chapter the next weekend, that one will be more explicit.  
> Again, no real military knowledge behind this.  
> Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always. Your kind feedback keeps me going.  
> Heed the warnings and let me know what you think :)

Avoiding his teammates got harder, as the next stage in basic training brought new relaxations.

No one timed their showers anymore, for example. Standing under the spray of water, feeling the spiteful eyes on his skin, Tony couldn’t help but remember the terror of being forced under water, of not being able to breathe.

He left the showers quickly.

 

Training in the morning was mind numbing. Tony had expected one would get used to the cold, but the winds cut through the soft cotton, wrapping around his flesh and leaving goose pumps in their wake. Ross showed no mercy, but he didn’t scream at Tony so much, kept ignoring him for the most part, as if not seeing him made the problem go away.

In exchange, Tony got lots of attention from Stone and his gang. And every witty remark got a shove or a kick from behind.

Tony didn’t care. He _didn’t_. He seethed while smiling, forcing himself to get up whenever he landed on the ground. He was made of iron.

 

Luckily, Steve didn’t pretend to be as ignorant as drill sergeant Ross. It was close to the end of the week which signalled the end of the punishment, and Tony was done. Done with Stone, done with training, done with being screamed at.

It wasn’t even the physical aspect of it that annoyed him, but the psychological intent behind this all.

He had always wondered how soldiers could march in perfect formation, one looking like the other. Rows of clones, good little copies of each other as soon as they went through training.

Now he was scared of the rules that tried to bend him, to reprogram his personality into a mindless puppet. He hated how scared he got when Ross’ screams got closer, or how a fold in his laundry made him straighten it without thinking.

Tony hated that he was becoming what they wanted him to be. And all the while, Stone never left him alone.

"Hey, what was that right now?" Steve shouted from the other side of the room, moving passed Stone’s lackeys that were trying to obstruct the view.

"I think Stark tripped," Stone explained with a menacing smile at Tony, who was sitting up on the floor, rubbing his knees. The older boy leaned over and stretched his hand out. "Come on, get up."

"Stark?" Steve asked, eyeing Stone distrustfully, and Tony thought, _fuck it._

"He tripped me," he said angrily, nodding at Stone while ignoring the offered hand, getting up on his own.

Steve threw his disappointed look full force at Stone.

"Recruit Stone, we don’t bully our comrades. Apologize."

Stone stiffened, as his friends looked at him uncomfortably. "What?"

"I said," Steve, no, Captain Rogers raised his voice, filling it with authority, "apologize."

Stone’s throat swelled up, his muscles bulging under the tension. Swallowing his pride, he turned to Tony to press out a between his teeth, "Sorry."

The captain nodded. "And now hundred push-ups. All of you."

When Tony started to sink to the ground, Steve gripped his shoulders. "Not you, Recruit Stark. Get back to the others."

 _So cool_ , Tony thought mesmerized, as he nodded his head vigorously and ran back to the rest.

Steve stayed next to Stone and his gang, while the other recruits continued their climbing circuit training.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky joined Steve’s training when it was about to end. The moment he saw Stevie’s face, clouded with supressed anger, he knew something was up.

Being an impatient man, he wanted to pull his friend out of the gym and grill him, but he was supposed to take over the kids any moment and teach them how to assemble a M16 and he couldn’t do that with only half his head.

Luckily, Steve tagged along as they left for another training room. Knowing he wouldn’t bail on him calmed Bucky down enough to focus on training.

While explaining and watching those clumsy idiots follow his instructions, Bucky’s eyes kept trailing to the rich kid in nothing but his ridiculous PJs. The man couldn’t shake this feeling that this was all somehow Stark’s fault. The boy looked as if he didn’t even realize Bucky was there, assembling the rifle in record time like it was just an afterthought, before his eyes searched Steve out again.

Of course, he could assemble a M16. Just like that first time, when he had picked weapon parts that would make a M3 and a Browning automatic rifle if assembled correctly. As if Bucky wouldn’t see it. There was something challenging about him, something that rubbed him the wrong way. He hated the tension. And he hated the way the boy watched Steve.

 

At the end of the lecture, Bucky shouted at them to get lost. He couldn’t wait to be back in his room, to be able to take that damn prosthetic off and get some alcohol into his system. But first, Steve.

His mood soured instantly when he saw that someone else had been faster. There was that obnoxious Stark kid ruining his day, sidling up to Steve who was standing to the side.

"… if that happens again" he could catch Steve whispering before he joined them.

"What," he demanded, watching in satisfaction as the Stark kid jerked, before he threw him a dirty look. Too much attitude in that one, Bucky thought.

"Nothing," the kid said, eyes trailing back to Steve as they always tended to do, "just…"

He shrugged insecurely with his shoulders, causing Stevie’s mommy instincts to flair.

"Don’t be afraid to ask, Tony. If there’s something I can do to help, I will."

So, it was "Tony" now? Bucky wanted to punch Steve’s head against the wall. This kid was bad news, especially for someone like his friend who always thought to see the good in people.

"Could I shower at your place?" the boy then asked with doe eyes, proving Bucky’s point. That kid was hitting on Stevie so hard, it was embarrassing. Before Steve could answer though, Bucky already saw the reply forming on his lips.

Dear god, his friend was a fool.

"You can shower at my place," he successfully intervened, proving he was a fool as well.

At least he could handle a teen with ill intentions, unlike Steve.

The boy looked at him befuddled, as if Bucky had proposed to cook and eat him.

"Bucky, that’s. Really kind of you."

Steve on the other hand was all naïve appreciation, probably seeing a glimpse of his friend from the time before that last mission. Bucky wouldn’t ruin that illusion.

"Come on," he called out to the Stark kid and made his way to leave the room, throwing a final glare at his friend. They were not done yet.

 

Tony obviously thought the same since he started talking as soon as they left the building. The sun had just sunk low enough to throw some last orange red rays of light across the camp, bloody fingers trying to hold onto the day. Soon it would be dark.

"So, I’m more of a direct approach kinda guy. Is this a symbolic olive branch you’re handing me? Because after the whole ‘leave Stevie alone’ Britney gig, I thought you might not, you know, like me."

Bucky took a deep breath.

"You thought right."

"Oh, okay. Well, message received," the boy announced, but rambled on more quietly, "Not like it’s any trouble to stay away from you. Except for, of course, when you interfere with other people’s business. Like right now."

"Steve _is_ my business," Bucky declared as he opened the door to his apartment. The kid puffed out his chest and threw him a sinister look as he passed him and walked inside. _Ridiculous._

With a snort Bucky closed the door behind them. The boy walked straight into the apartment and Bucky heard his bathroom door close with a loud bang.

"Make yourself at home," he grumbled, sitting down in his lone kitchen chair.

After a while, a knock sounded at the door before Steve entered, carrying clothes.

"What is that? Room service?" Bucky asked, bewildered.

Steve just passed him with a sigh and dropped the clothes on the bed in the next room. Stark was still in the shower, taking his sweet time wasting all the hot water.

Bucky could have sworn he did it on purpose.

"I think it’s Recruit Stone who’s bullying him," Steve explained quietly, leaning against the kitchen counter.

They sat in the dark, the sun finally vanishing behind the horizon and taking any trace of light with it. It was quiet except for the shower in the background, almost sounding like rain. Bucky had to look outside the window to be sure that the white houses, grey in the darkness, and the roads were undisturbed in their silence.

Sighing, he let his head rest on the back of the chair, eyes almost closing by themselves.

It felt like a joke to worry about some kids squabbling. He had seen worse things, so horrible they kept him awake most nights. But telling Steve that wouldn’t help his friend and Bucky knew it was a fucked-up way to think about other people’s struggles, comparing them to one’s own, belittling them.

Adjusting in his seat uncomfortably, he watched Steve whose pensive eyes were fixed on the same sad scenery outside the window.

"They’re kids, Steve. They’re naïve and cruel, the absolute worst combination. But they’re also resilient little fuckers."

It had some effect, as Steve huffed amused. Just then the bathroom door opened, and the Stark kid stepped out into the bedroom, clutching the towel around his hips.

"There are clothes on the bed," Steve told him.

"Thank you," the boy answered sweetly with a tiny smile.

 _So obvious,_ Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The kid dressed in the bathroom and joined them in the kitchen, Steve turning to him.

"How do you feel? Do you want some tea?"

"Do I run a bed-and-breakfast now?" Bucky questioned his friend with raised eyebrows and gestured at the kid, "Still has two arms, two legs, looks fine to me. Off ya go."

The kid opened his mouth, but Bucky already ushered him out, opening the door and closing it in his face.

With a heavy groan, he turned back to the kitchen to see his friend watching him.

"What."

"Nothing," Steve replied quietly, but angled his head to the side, watching him curiously.

"Well, if it’s nothing, I’d really like to get some alone time, now." Grunting, he went to the bathroom, irritated that the kid hadn’t bothered to open the window, and trusted Steve to leave him alone for the night.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tony mastered Saturday like a champ.

He had dodged any possible confrontation with Stone the day prior and now it seemed like things had calmed down. The older boy was now ignoring him, something Tony couldn’t have imagined, and he was surprised about the sheer weight that lifted off of his chest. He didn’t even feel spiteful about the morning exercise at four am in PJs.

He sat alone during all meals, which was fine, it was better than being insulted.

And then he got to see Steve again, all rightful authority, standing in all his glory in the middle of the training hall, towering everyone.

Steve Rogers was the first person to stand up for Tony. It was different from his mom stepping in to distract Howard during his rant or Jarvis calling for dinner to diffuse the tension. Steve had put the world on hold to right what was wrong. For _Tony_. Despite S.I. business in military gear and weaponry, Tony never cared about trained military monkeys. But Captain Steve Rogers was as close to a hero a man could get, he thought.

Steve appeared to keep a close eye on him during training, something that made him stand straighter and try harder. Barnes still glared at him, but Tony really wouldn’t know if it was a personal thing or not as he glared at everyone.

 

After training, he trailed behind, loitering until Stone left the shower room before he gathered his things to get himself cleaned up with the latecomers.

He hurried his shower in order to leave before anyone got any funny ideas, but just as he turned to grab his towel, a foot kicked his leg, forcing him to stumble and slip.

"Isn’t it disgusting that we have to shower with a fag?" Stones voice reverberated on the tiled walls. He was fully clothed in combat boots just like his friends, standing on the wet floor around Tony. Everyone who had just been showering seemed to rush out of the room, as someone closed the door behind them with a loud clank.

And Tony understood that _of course_ this wasn’t over for Stone.

He angled his legs so his private parts were covered and curled in on himself to be a smaller target.

"I think Stark should pay for peeping on us like a perv. Who knows, maybe he’s trying to record a video with us?"

The accusations were ridiculous. No one could possibly believe that, Tony thought, but instead, Stone’s words were met with an agreeing murmur.

Confidently, the older boy grabbed a shower head and turned the temperature cold.

"Hold him."

 

*~*~*

 

Tony woke up in the shower room when the alarm sounded. He lay waiting, listening to the voices until it appeared everyone had left for training, then he pulled himself up. He was freezing, his limbs shaking so bad that he thought his legs might not carry him. He must have passed out the night before, because he barely remembered anything after the water hit his face. He was so cold, his whole body shivering terribly.

He considered taking a quick hot shower to warm up, but that thought made him almost puke.

Carefully opening the door to the dormitory, Tony looked around to make sure he was alone before tripping to his bunk bed and falling under the covers. He didn’t care about the sergeant or anyone else who might come to complain, he just needed to get some warmth back under his skin.

 

He thought he heard voices, but he was still so cold, not wanting to open his eyes.

"… thought he was at the infirmary, but then …"

"… need to get Strange…"

"I’ll carry…"

 

The second time he became conscious, everything was quiet, and Tony was finally, finally warm. He wiggled his limbs and felt all fingers and toes, all still there and safely attached.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark."

"Tony." the boy answered by reflex. The dark, dry voice could only belong to the strange Dr. Strange. He hesitantly opened one eye and caught the curious gaze of the doctor.

"Let me guess, the cold again?" the man asked sarcastically, but Tony only nodded slowly.

"Of course. Well, you _did_ catch a cold this time, but I’m afraid that is not the only thing that happened to you."

Tony waited, head still too muddled for any type of comeback.

"And as you’re still bedridden, I think it’s the perfect opportunity to meet Miss Romanoff."

Tony sighed while considering his chances of just making a run for it.

"And you’re still naked," the doctor’s bone-dry voice remarked.

Groaning, Tony pulled the covers over his head, only to pull them down twice as fast.

"Wait – who carried me here?"

Dr. Strange didn’t answer, but Tony got the impression of a suppressed smirk.

 

*~*~*

 

Romanoff was nothing like Tony had imagined. Which was a huge Viking woman with a fine moustache who wrestled in her free time.

But Romanoff was – attractive, unfairly so. Red hair and luscious red lips that were too pouty for a woman with such a cold demeanour. She looked like she wanted to make you uncomfortable, not to get you to confide in her.

Tony was the one to break first.

"What do you want?" he asked crankily, hugging the hot water bottle closer to his chest.

"Nothing. I literally get paid just for sitting here with you."

She smiled conspiratorially and Tony watched her with slanted eyes, not sure if he liked her approach.

"If you want me to sit here with you, you have to be more entertaining, Miss Romanoff. I get bored easily."

Tony was just spouting hot air, both of them knew. Because of his cold, he was confined to the bed for the next days, meaning only cold white walls and a warm bed for him while not being allowed outside. Despite the much-needed rest that his overwrought body soaked up, being torn out of the strict daily schedule that he had gotten used to by now left him askew. And the lack of anything else to do did not help relax his mottled mind. So, really, Miss Romanoff did not face any challenges in grabbing his attention. Still she played along and inclined her head questioningly.

"What would you propose, Mr. Stark?"

"Call me Tony," the boy inserted by reflex. Romanoff only smiled benevolently.

"Then call me Natasha."

"You wouldn’t happen to have a Nintendo, Natasha? I would prefer a phone, to be honest, or a computer. But I was told this is a no-call-zone, so really, any kind of electronics would be greatly appreciated."

The woman, it was still hard to think of her as Natasha, appeared to ponder his request until she snapped her fingers.

"I got something better."

 

Tony hadn’t held a real wooden chess piece in his hand since he had been a kid, sneaking into Howard’s study and touching things he was not supposed to. In school, he had designed a chess game on his computer that played with him. It was a novel sensation to move the little black pawn with his own hand over the chessboard.

Natasha made an inquisitive noise, before moving a white horse. Tony smirked, taking her horse down.

"You know, they say chess reveals a lot about oneself," he observed in passing, waiting for Natasha’s next move.

"You mean strategic skill and foresight?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the game.

"That, too. I mean, you have to consider your opponent’s choices and at the same time plan your own moves, but. There are other aspects, too. Like, you don’t mind losing your pawns. Scratch that, you basically send them out to get slaughtered. One might think you are a cold and calculating woman who does not mind sacrificing others for her goal."

Tony waited with bated breath to see how Natasha took the poorly disguised insult.

"One might think that’s the objective of the game," she remarked with a raised eyebrow, no malice in her voice. _Calculating, indeed._

"But what would that say about you, then?"

Taking another horse, she took out one of Tony’s pawns.

"You are trying so desperately to protect them all, even the worthless ones. But you know you cannot win like that. You will always lose some."

They continued playing as Tony grinned.

"It’s not that I’m trying to protect them. It’s just more of a challenge to save them all."

Smiling, Natasha shook her head, moved another chess piece and lifted Tony’s dame up, dangling her in the air.

"But if you focus too much on others, you will lose what’s really important."

"Really?"

In one move, Tony had the white king right in front of his tower.

"Checkmate."

Natasha laughed, incredulously checking for any moves that might save her.

"I have to admit, that was clever. I forgot you’re a genius."

Tony’s self-satisfied smirk morphed into something more real at the straightforward compliment, cheeks heating slightly.

"Well, my computer couldn’t win against me since I was twelve. I had a lot of practice."

"That I see," Natasha agreed good-naturedly and smiled at him, "Tomorrow, same time?"

The teen was a bit disappointed at the implied end of their meeting, just as he had started to like her.

"Yeah, okay."

"Don’t worry," Natasha reassured him, "I think you will have other visitors to keep you company."

She raised her index finger to her lips and got up from her chair, moving quietly to the door so her heals wouldn't click on the tiled floor, opening the door with one swift move, showing Rhodey where he had been listening with his ear on the door.

The tall boy carefully turned his head to them.

"Uhh… hey." His eyes lifted to Natasha with comically wide eyes. "I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Tony stared at him just as surprised, before chuckling.

"Hey, Rhodey. Don’t tell me you’re here to check on me?"

Rhodey’s eyes turned back to the boy and he looked more pissed, but his shoulders relaxed.

"Like hell. I came to finish the job, actually. What were you even thinking spending the night naked in the shower? You know how emo that is?"

Tony jerked at having the truth laid out so matter-of-factly, and couldn’t help throwing a careful glance at Natasha, who did not seem surprised at the revelation.

"Aww, honeybear. It’s so nice to know you care. I just kinda. Fell asleep?"

He awkwardly scratched his head, watching Natasha leave the two of them with a smile and a nod. Rhodey rolled his eyes at the younger boy’s antics before coming in and closing the door behind them.

They bickered a bit, until Rhodey took a deep breath, "Look, I’m so-"

"It’s not your fault," Tony interrupted him tense, fiddling with the now luke-warm water bottle.

"I didn’t realize that I… fainted. I thought I could just sleep it off. Wasn’t the first time, by the way. You’d be surprised in what weird situations I have already woken up. You, know, college parties … "

Rhodes listened for a while, watching Tony fidget and gesticulate before his face hardened.

"No."

Tony’s voice tapered off. "… You mean no as in you haven’t tried beer pong or no, Tony, I don’t believe your won two in a row?"

"What – no! I mean, of course I don’t believe that. But – that’s not the point."

Rhodey scrubbed a hand over his tired face, only to focus back on Tony.

"It is my fault. And I’m sorry. I knew what those idiots were doing, Stone and his minions. But I just ignored it, because I didn’t want to get mixed up in trouble. But - shit. I came here to protect those who can’t protect themselves and then I just – I let it happen."

While confessing, his eyes had sunken down to his hands that were rubbing their palms together.

"If my mom knew about this, she’d be so pissed. She’d be ashamed of me."

Tony’s throat tightened up. He tried several times to swallow the lump down, before he considered what to say.

"You were right, though, about the trouble. It’s safer if you – "

"No!" Rhodey raised his voice, but the resonating anger seemed to be aimed at himself. "I’m not gonna let anything like that happen again. Those fuckers can try me."

"Huh." Tony eyes the taller boy clenching his hands to fist, muscles in his arm flexing. It was such a nice thing to say, but the teen really didn’t know how to handle such an aspiration.

"Okay. But don’t complain to me later when they kick your puppy."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "I don’t have a puppy."

"It’s a figure of speech."

"I’ve never heard that, is that how you uppity rich people talk?"

"No, that’s how geniuses talk."

"Tell that yourself."

Tony eyed the unimpressed man open-mouthed.

"Did you just insult a genius? I guess I’ll have to show you one day. Your mind will be blown!"

"I might consider blowing out my own mind if you keep talking like that."

Tony laughed, surprised and absolutely delighted at Rhodey’s reluctant grin, happy about having made a friend, maybe, of some sorts.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky saw Natasha leaving the infirmary office in the early evening as he was coming back from the shooting range. Ducking his head back down, he continued his way to the arsenal, unlocking the door and lighting the room. He put his rifle down and just started to disassemble the parts to clean them, an action derived more from habit than a necessity, when he heard a voice.

"How is he?"

"Who?" Bucky hedged without stopping in his task. He heard Steve sigh and then steps getting closer until the taller blonde stopped next to him, leaning against the table where his friend had laid out his tools.

"You know who. Don’t tell me you didn’t go check on him."

"I was busy."

"Busy hiding at the shooting range?"

Bucky dropped the towel and the barrel he had been rubbing at furiously.

"What do you want me to do? Talk with him about rainbows and sunshine and lie how everything is gonna be okay?"

His best friend didn’t take the bait, just raised his hands defensively, as if showing he was unarmed. Glancing down at his hands, Bucky then realized he had started assembling the rifle again. Swearing, he unscrewed the barrel band screw again to remove the handguard.

"I’m not saying you have to comfort him, Buck. Just that he might rather talk to someone who knows. What it’s like to face that."

"You mean judgemental fucks?" Bucky asked drily and grinned as Steve winced at the language.

"People who don’t understand," the blonde supplied, nodding.

Bucky went back to cleaning.

"I don’t think it happens because he’s gay. I think the kid is just a dick."

Steve huffed and crossed his arms.

"It might have been my fault," Steve admitted with a guilty voice, "I confronted Recruit Stone in front of the others on Friday. Don't you think it's strange that Tony didn't want to shower at the barracks and then he gets found naked and shivering, half frozen to death?"

Bucky was still scrubbing the rifle, shaking his head slowly.

"You're doing your job, Steve. Can't take the blame for all the shit that's happening."

"See, you're really good at comforting others."

Bucky snorted at the change of tactic.

"And you’re a smooth flirt, Sergeant Barnes. You can charm everyone out of their pants. You’re a talker. Go talk to him." Steve asked earnestly, throwing him those big baby blues that always got to him, and Bucky found himself folding like a leaf.

"Okay."

He waited until he had put all parts away again, before facing Stevie who still had a satisfied smile on his face. But not for long.

"I saw Romanoff today."

The smile dropped. "At the infirmary?"

Bucky nodded.

"That means Fury is getting involved."

Steve’s face did something complicated and Bucky could clearly read the implied _fuck_.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Peering through the blinds of his infirmary room, Tony saw empty roads in the dark and no light in the windows of neighbouring buildings. Closing them, he grabbed the metal wire he had fumbled off of the alarm clock that was standing innocently and in one piece again on the dresser.

Deciding it was now or never, he opened the door and stepped out into the dark corridor, passing the bathroom and bending over at the lock of the office door.

"What. The hell. Are you doing?"

Tony’s head snapped up so fast it knocked against the door handle. Wincing, he righted himself and saw no other than hobo Barnes standing in the middle of the corridor, his one arm propped at his hip.

"Hobo Barnes," Tony whispered, which was a testament to how hard he had hit his head.

"Who the fuck are you calling a hobo?"

Barnes marched up to him, face unreadable in the dark, and grabbed his arm, pulling the boy back to his room. His grip was rough and despite manhandling being something of a turn-on for Tony in certain situations, he was not amused.

"Can you do anything else except getting into trouble?"

"Piss sergeants off, it seems," Tony grumbled petulantly, trying to withdraw his hand, but the sergeant’s grip was adamant.

"You wanna get thrown out of the camp?"

"Why yes, that would actually be an ideal outcome," Tony sassed back, not backing down. It was too dark to see much, but he knew they were fairly close as he felt the older man’s breath on his face as he huffed.

"No wonder you ended up here."

"That’s all your fault!" Tony exploded, trying to push the man away or to punch him, but the taller man didn’t budge.

"Really, it’s my fault? Why, because you stole my phone? You can’t even own up to your own mistakes. You’re a brat."

"Says the man who smells like he bathed in Jack."

Barnes froze. It occurred to Tony that maybe it was not a good idea to antagonize drunk superiors.

But instead of snapping, the sergeant pushed him back towards the bed while sitting tiredly down on the chair on the other side.

"I can’t believe Stevie is actually worried about you."

"Is that why you’re here?" Tony asked hesitantly.

 Bucky grunted before getting up, heading to the window, and bending the blinds to look out.

"What did you want in Strange’s office?"

Tony scratched his head, feeling a slight bump where he’d gotten close and personal with the door handle. He thought about deflecting, but he was talking with a drunk. There were surely over the phase of pointing fingers.

"I wanted to look for a phone."

Even though Sunday was the only day Tony would get a call, Dr. Strange had insisted on bedrest and Tony was too tired to argue back before.

"Want mommy and daddy to come pick you up?" Barnes asked mockingly. It was rare for Tony to detect humour in the man's voice, but when he did it was always at Tony's own cost.

"I was thinking more along the lines of pizza. And maybe an Uber. I’ve heard of this great club the next city over. You could join me. Although it seems like you already partied enough for today."

Barnes turned his murderous eyes back at Tony at the jab but did nothing to right his low-sitting pants or the unbuttoned shirt under which Tony saw a black tank top. It was a look, Tony had to admit.

"At least I can get into a club, babyface."

"Oh please. I’m Tony Stark. I throw money at people and no one cares anymore," Tony waved the argument away.

"God, do you ever just stop talking? I’m getting a migraine. And no drunk jokes anymore," Barnes hastily added as the boy had already opened his mouth for a witty comeback, then pouted instead.

"You're insufferable."

"Steve likes me."

Barnes snorted. "Steve has a soft spot for misfits."

 _Well, that made sense,_ Tony thought. "That makes him so much more attractive."

Barnes stared at him disgruntledly. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you’re gay, too. Admit it."

Suddenly Barnes was standing right in front of him again, grabbing Tony by the neck like a misbehaving pup and staring at him. When he talked, his voice was weirdly calm.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you two are an item?" Tony’s voice was embarrassingly scratchy. He held his breath until Barnes suddenly snorted amused.

"You think Stevie and I are dating?"

"Well, you warned me off your boyfriend, didn’t you?"

Barnes shook his head smirking, while Tony twitched embarrassed under his grip. The man looked not half as bad with a smirk on his lips, Tony thought grudgingly. Then the grip was gone, and Barnes sat again on the chair.

"We’re childhood friends, me ‘n Stevie. Grew up together."

Tony listened curiously, not used to seeing Barnes so open.

"And that guy is gone on the ladies, I tell ya. No point holding your breath."

It was not like Tony hadn’t considered it. But hearing that all his naïve daydreams and fantasies and what-ifs, where Steve would smile at him and lean down to kiss him softly, were nothing but just that, fantasy, hurt. A rock settled under his ribs, cold and heavy, pressing down against his heart.

He absently rubbed at his chest, but it wouldn’t go away.

"Don’t look like that," Barnes admonished him with an eyeroll. "S'not like you actually had a chance."

Anger and disappointment and a little bit of shame burned in Tony’s eyes. "Why not?"

"Oh, come on, you are what, fifteen?"

"I’m almost eighteen!"

"Steve always dreamed about going to the army, to fight for the weak ones. He lives for this. You on the other hand, have paid enough to use this place as an exile and soon you will be gone, back to your party life financed by Daddy Inc. The most famous thing about you is your sex tape."

Tony flinched, but nodded, trying to relax his muscles again that had tensed all up. It was the usual insults, he shouldn’t take it personally, but he couldn’t stop the bitter words tumbling out of his mouth.

"You’re right. Steve might not fall for me, but I bet I could show him a good time, since that is all I’m good for."

Barnes sighed, exasperatedly.

"Look, kid, I didn’t wanna hurt ya feelings or anything, all right? But you know nothing of what life’s about. Jesus, just look what happened to you."

Tony felt the sting in his eyes at the words, trying to take deep breaths to swallow the welling tears. The implication that this was somehow his fault was right there, and he couldn’t shake the question if Steve knew about the tape, if maybe he even saw it and scrunched his face up in disgust.

But then there was rage, at being reduced to this 2D image, just a screenshot with the caption "Tony Stark, billionaire’s deviant son".

He looked up at Barnes who was staring at him with wide eyes and then leaning back, pressing his thumb and index finger into his eye sockets.

"Jesus. I might have said too much, okay? Just. Forget it. It’s the booze talking, probably."

"You’re right, though," Tony acquiesced quietly, even though his heart was still beating like crazy, pumping anger through his blood.

"There’s not much I know about, but this? I’m very familiar with."

And he leant slowly forward, fingertips tracing over Barnes’ fly, barely any pressure.

This was the moment Barnes should jump up, swat his hand away and ask him what the fuck he was doing.

Instead, the man sat frozen, gawking at him as if seeing Tony for the first time. The boy angled his head and peered at the older man with big eyes before dropping them to the V between his legs, biting his tongue between his lips.

"I could show you," he proposed casually, slipping slowly from the bed to land safely on his knees between Barnes’ spread legs.

"My mouth is very talented. With more than just words," he winked, smirking. The sergeant finally stirred, grabbing the arm of the chair while swallowing audibly.

"Stop," he croaked, then tried more confidently, "You’re making a fool of yourself."

Tony smiled victoriously, pressing his cheek to a jeans-clad thigh, looking up under his lashes.

"But I _so_ love the view from here, Sergeant."

His hand flattened over the now prominent bulge and cupped it as he started to press down harder. Barnes hissed and as Tony’s hand made its way to the zipper, reached out and grabbed it, halting the movement. The hold was bruising, but Tony pretended to stay calm while his heart pounded violently in his ear.

"It’s up to you now," he offered and watched the fight play out on Barnes’ face. They both breathed heavily in the quiet.

"Fuck," the man finally huffed and didn’t slap Tony, as the boy might have expected, but led the boy’s hand back to its original destination. Tony hummed and watched as he revealed black underwear, secretly panicking. He was going to do it. He was going to blow a sergeant in an army camp. While a part of his brain was shocked, another part of him got hard just thinking of it.

He looked up once more to make sure he was allowed and met Barnes’ half-lid eyes watching him back. His hair fell messily around his face and his mouth was slightly open as he breathed heavily. It was exhilarating, having all the power, but it also made him nervous, put on the spot.

"Go on," Barnes suddenly rasped, a challenge in his eyes. Tony felt his cock jerk at the command, heat rising to his face, but he listened nonetheless, reaching for the black fabric and slowly tugging it down. Staring at the hardening cock, Tony gulped, grabbing the base and squeezing lightly. Barnes sighed through his open mouth, sounding absolutely indecent, and Tony leant forward, kissing the tip before licking down the length. A hand found his neck again, gripping him tightly, but this time with very different purpose, tightening and jerking under Tony’s ministrations.

"God, that mouth on you," Barnes moaned quietly, as if just talking to himself, like he couldn’t believe it, and Tony preened, opening his mouth wider and pushing his head lower.

He had done this before, drunken escapades with older college students from his classes, always older, more experienced ones who promised him he was the best at what he was doing, but then ignoring him the next day they met in the hallway.

But this, this was different, Tony thought, enjoying the strong hold on his neck that guided him just how the man liked it, rewarding him for going where he wanted with a warm squeeze.

He pressed his legs together where he sat, wanting to touch himself and maybe jerk off to the view, to the sounds, but having his hands literally _full_.

The muscle’s in Barnes’ legs spasmed, urging Tony on to ignore his achy jaw and to keep going, slurping and moaning louder around the huge cock in his mouth, squeezing the base with both of his hands as he couldn’t fit all inside despite trying.

"Fuck, Tony, I’m, I’m – "

Tony felt the warm liquid hit his tongue and swallowed instinctually, as Bucky moaned low and dirty. After lapping away any stray drops, he glanced up.

Barnes sat slumped down, head resting on the back of the chair, eyes lazily opening and closing to look at the boy kneeling in front of him.

The quiet made Tony nervous, who pushed the soft cock back into the pants, slowly zipping the fly back up, when a palm landed on his check, a thumb stroking softly under his eye. The sweet gesture made Tony even more insecure, struggling to find witty words. Instead, he just asked, "Good?"

Barnes huffed with a soft smile on his lips.

"Yeah. Really good."

Tony nodded, slowly getting back on his feet, shying away from the hand. He sat down on his bed, eying the sergeant’s jeans fly, only to realize where he was looking and instead focusing on his own toes while his erection wilted.

"I guess I was right about ya in that respect."

Tony was surprised how hoarse the man’s voice had gotten. His own didn’t sound much better.

"I’m always happy to prove a point."

Barnes snorted. "Your throat sounds absolutely wrecked."

"Well, I _do_ have a cold," the younger man smiled and shrugged. But Barnes’ easy smile vanished as if he just understood what had happened. Which reminded Tony of what he was actually doing.

"Are you all right, Sergeant Barnes?" he asked with fake concern, and the sergeant jerked at the reminder of their positions.

He groaned and got up, pulling Tony forward by his collar until their noses were almost touching. For one second Tony thought he might kiss him.

"Don’t play games with me, kid. I think after having my dick in your mouth you can call me Bucky."

He let go of the boy and turned to leave, throwing something on the bed. Tony recognized the little chunk of plastic.

"Is that payment for my silence?" he blurted and heard Bucky sigh from the door.

"No, you idiot. That’s a phone. And I will want it back."

Then he left, leaving Tony on the bed staring incredulously at the small device, pondering his life choices.

 

*~*~*

 

"Your throat still looks red and swollen," Dr. Strange noticed, "and you’re running hot. Do you have a fever?"

"I’m fine!" Tony exclaimed, trying to will the heat down from his face. He felt like his head might explode. _Smooth, Stark. Really smooth._

Dr. Strange just clicked his tongue and scribbled something else in his file.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky was woken by sunlight streaming in between the window blinds, a screaming headache and thinking, _Stevie is gonna kill me._

He squinted against the light, recognizing his bleak army apartment walls, and groaned. After what felt like an eternity, he righted himself in bed, heaved himself up and limped towards the kitchen, on a mission to hunt for some pain pills. He took two, swallowed them dry and settled back on his bed, wanting nothing more than to sink back into the covers and not _think_. But the images sat in the forefront of his mind, popping up the moment his eyes closed, moving and in colour like an old movie reel.

The boy probably only wanted to provoke him, but he had no idea how little Bucky cared about his position. Fuck, some sick part of him hoped the kid was already on his way to Strange or Romanoff to cry about the wicked deeds "hobo Barnes" had forced him to commit.

Another, even sicker part of him thought of how good the young man had looked on his knees, pliant to the touch and so desperate for guidance. It was that insecurity behind his eyes, the little shake in his voice despite arrogant words, that made him give in. How could a cocky brat like Stark be so naïve and needy? Bucky felt in power for the first time in a long while. It had been so tempting, and he remembered hearing about the Stark heir’s sex tape but never watching it, but now suddenly needing to see what the boy looked like when he was coming apart.

He shook his head and regretted it instantly under the bursting pain. Fuck it, he thought, and sank back into the bed.

 

Hours must have passed before a knock on his door woke him up.

"Bucky."

Steve must have grown tired waiting and let himself in. Now he stood at the door and looked just overall disapproving.

"What happened? It’s almost time for lunch. We have training in an hour, soldier."

Bucky groaned and turned away. "You gotta cover me, Stevie. Feelin’ like shit."

But instead of leaving, Steve did the opposite of what Bucky wanted, and sat down on the bed.

"We talked about this, Buck. You said you would try."

Yeah, he did say that. And now it came back to bite him in the ass. He so wanted to spew the ugly truth at Steve, that it would never be like it used to be again, that he was not himself anymore. But then Steve would get that kicked puppy look like Bucky just physically hurt him, and he just couldn’t stand feeling like that again, like someone who only lived to inflict pain. Like a killer.

He already regretted his soft heart, as he grumbled, "Okay."

Steve’s expression cleared right away, and he got up.

"Come one, then. Let’s get some food in you first."

His friend knew not to leave Bucky alone or the man would just fall back asleep. So, Bucky got up slowly and pulled on a pair of army pants, eyeing his arm prosthetic with resentment before sighing and buckling that thing on. It felt heavy and foreign. Like carrying around a stick in his hand all day, he had once explained to Steve. Pointless.

Putting on his shirt, he struggled to button the first few buttons up before leaving, happy that Steve knew better than to offer his help.

At least his hangover was a good reason why he stayed quiet all day.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The door suddenly opened and Rhodey stuck his head in, looking around.

Tony eyed him distrustfully. "Natasha left already."

"Damn," the boy sighed and came in, slumping on the chair.

"Nice to see you too, platypus," Tony called out, definitely not thinking about what had happened in that same chair twenty hours ago.

"How are you, Tones?" Rhodey asked, but Tony just waved his hand.

"Same old, same old. Doc said I have to stay at least until the weekend."

He ignored the implication that at some point he would have to go back to that dorm. Rhodey seemed to catch his thought process, though.

"Ross and Captain Rogers have been patrolling our barracks since you left. They drop by at irregular times, do room checks and all."

Tony pondered that new information. It was a nice gesture, but that didn’t really change much. How much longer would they be paying attention? Stone would always be a threat.

"How was training, by the way?" Tony tried to deflect, but Rhodes only lifted his brows.

"Training? Like always, a pain in the ass."

"And what about Cap?" the boy probed again.

"What about him?"

Tony stared incredulously at Rhodey’s wide-eyes expression, until the taller boy suddenly started laughing.

"God, Tony. You’re hilarious when you’re trying to be smooth."

The boy in question spluttered before lifting his hand in an overdramatic gesture.

"What? I’m the epitome of smoothness! I mean, I wasn’t trying to be smooth, just concerned about your training success without my moral support, that’s all."

"Yeah, right. And it has nothing to do with your crush on the good ol' Captain?"

Tony snorted loudly, then looked down at his hands as started to feel insecure. "It’s not a crush."

"Forget about him," Rhodey advised with a rough voice, but patted the younger man awkwardly on the shoulder. "He’s totally into Sergeant Carter, I heard."

"I know," Tony replied testily, remembering the conversation he had the night before, "It’s not like I had a chance."

After some quiet where Tony didn’t dare to lift his eyes, Rhodey got up from the chair and Tony had the inexplicable fear he might leave, but instead the taller boy sidled up next to him on the bed, his arm now a heavy weight across Tony’s back and on his shoulder.

"You actually dodged a bullet there, you know?" he whispered conspiratorially, and opened his eyes wide. "I also hear Rogers only eats… healthy food."

The last part was barely audible, and Tony raised his hand to cover his mouth.

"What? No – no cheeseburgers?"

"No cheeseburgers."

"Heathen!" Tony screamed in fake shock and Rhodey nodded his head with a heavy sigh.

"And that guy gets to train kids."

_Speaking of inappropriate behaviour…_

Tony’s laugh stopped short and he couldn’t help but cringe.

"And what about… Sergeant Barnes?"

"Well, I haven’t seen him eat a cheeseburger, but from what I’ve heard he prefers a liquid diet. So, definitely no health nut, that guy."

"That’s not what I meant."

"Ohhh, you mean to ask if he’s available? You move fast, Stark."

Rhodey laughed as Tony slapped his arm way with an offended pout. He wasn’t interested in Barnes, not like that.

"What I mean is, was he in training today?"

"Physically? Yes. But he looked like death warmed over, let me tell you. Just let us clean gun parts again while he slept with his head on the table, snoring – and smelling by the way – like a garbage truck. Yeah, I know." Rhodes added after noticing Tony’s repulsed face.

"So, what’s the deal with the 21 questions?"

"Nothing," Tony deflected quickly and clapped his hands, "but after all that cheeseburger talk, I’m really hungry, what about you?"

"Well, dinner is already over, and I can tell you, I don’t know _what_ it was, but that did not look or taste like a cheeseburger."

"See, that’s the thing, sugar plum. You need to learn to trust the genius. Because there are cheeseburgers, I just need your help to get them, as I am not allowed to leave the infirmary."

Tony batted his eyes, trying to appear as sickly and helpless as possible and despite Rhodey’s grunt, he knew he won.

 

After the giant fast-food feast, Rhodey left to sneak back into the barracks, as they might have slightly missed the curfew.

When someone knocked at the door at the late hour, Tony first guess was Bucky, but as Steve stepped in, he realized Bucky, being a dick, probably wouldn’t have knocked.

"Hey Tony," the blonde man greeted him and hovered worriedly at the door, "I hope you weren’t sleeping, but I can come tomorrow, if you’re too tired?"

"No, no, it’s fine!" the boy tried to appease him, sitting up straighter on the bed, hiding the phone under the covers.

Smiling, Steve sat down on the opposite chair. "How are you feeling?"

"I’m fine. My throat is a bit achy, but that’s all."

God, he hoped he would be able to say that without thinking of the why and light up like a flame one day.

"So, I heard Bucky came by. Well, he didn’t really say anything, but I hoped he would have."

"Yeah," Tony admitted, happy that Bucky didn’t tattle to his friend. Even though Steve was totally unattainable, Tony didn’t want him to think badly of him.

"I know Bucky can come off as a bit... intense, sometimes, but he’s actually really loyal. And he might understand best how you feel, you know..."

"Because he’s gay?" Tony asked dubiously. Steve stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"No! No, I didn’t mean that, I mean…"

The older man huffed helplessly and scratched his head, which seemed to be a frequent habit of his.

"It’s not my position to give you the details, but. You know how he lost his arm?"

Tony shook his head, intrigued.

"It was a mission. Bucky’s a great sniper, the best, really, so he got sent on the most dangerous missions. And the last time, he got captured."

Tony should have expected something along the lines, but he still felt a dark pit open up in his stomach, the cheeseburgers moving uncomfortably.

"He doesn’t talk about what happened, but the injuries tell a story. Tony, do you know what I mean when I say you have something in common?"

Tony shook his head again, this time in reluctance.

"It’s not something to be ashamed of, if someone hurt you. Living to tell the story doesn’t make you a victim. It makes you a survivor."

"Doesn’t really feel like that," Tony admitted quietly.

"I know," Steve agreed easily, "It’s not always a great feeling. Doing what’s right."

He sounded like he talked from experience and Tony wondered what Steve might have been through to sound that sad.

"I’d like to ask you something and I want you to be honest, okay?"

Tony felt strangely small. His instincts told him to lash out, to get some ground back and get Steve to back off, but it was _Steve_ , the only person who actually seemed concerned about him.

"What happened in the barracks?"

Tony swallowed the panic rising in his throat. He didn’t want to think of what happened, how it made him feel.

"Tony, who did this to you?"

And then the boy realized he couldn’t do it, couldn’t open his mouth and say what those bastards did, because it was the last thing keeping him together, pretending it just wasn’t that bad.

"Told you, Cap. I’m fine. I just. Fell. Really stupid for a genius, huh?" He tried for a grin, but it felt like a grimace. The look on Steve’s face was shattering. Like he had given up, had given Tony up and Tony found himself panicking, scared he had lost this friendship.

"Okay," Steve said, but he didn’t sound okay.

"Okay. I think you should sleep now."

He tried a reassuring smile, but Tony could taste the disappointment in the air when he left.

 

*~*~*

 

"You’re getting better," Tony smiled, moving his pawn and taken down the white king, "not better than me, of course, but, you know. Better."

Natasha smiled at him indulgently.

"You sure? I was thinking it’s just getting really boring, seeing you win all the time."

Grinning, Tony put the little pieces down and they both started to pack the game up.

"You know, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about," the redhead mentioned casually, but something wicked twinkled in her eyes.

"And that is?" he asked, taking the bait.

"You know, you being a genius and all, it has to be boring, just sitting around all day, with nothing but board games, right?"

"Yes!" Tony squeaked dramatically, hanging onto her lips. Natasha smiled.

"What would you think about helping our tech team in the lab?"

Tony stared, until his brain came back online.

"You have a lab? Then what am I still doing here?!"

"Well then, let’s go, soldier," Natasha announced and got up.

Tony was so excited that the woman had to remind him to at least put on some decent clothes ("We don’t want to make a bad impression by showing up in PJs, do we?").

Then she led the boy out of the infirmary and down a path to the western borders of the camp. The buildings were just as white and plain, but bigger, and Tony wondered how up-to-date the lab could possibly be.

But once inside the facility, he changed his opinion completely, staring at the chrome ceiling and glass walls.

Tony whistled when Natasha opened a door with a press of her thumb at a lock pad.

"Not bad for a boy scout camp."

As she walked into the room, Natasha threw him an amused look over her shoulder.

"By now you should know that we are operating more than just the new recruit training from this camp."

Tony followed her and they stopped at a table where a young man was scribbling into a note pad.

"Dr. Banner. I’d like you to meet Tony Stark."

"Oh," Dr. Banner looked up as if he hadn’t heard anyone come in, and got up hastily, almost dropping his pen, "nice to meet you, Mr. Stark"

"Call me Tony. What are you doing here?" the boy asked curiously, eyes drifting across the room before settling on the note pad.

"Uhm," the doctor followed his eyes and quickly turned the notebook around, "sorry, that’s, uh..."

"Super-secret, super cool military stuff, I get it. Is it a weapon?" Tony rattled on, trying to wheedle out something good, but Dr. Banner just looked perplexed, then embarrassed.

"No, that’s. My dream diary."

"Oh," Tony deflated, as Natasha shook her head, smiling.

"Tony here would like to see the lab. I was hoping you could show him around a bit."

"Oh, sure. Um, if you could follow me?"

"Yep!" Tony agreed happily, rocking on the balls of his feet, while Dr. Banner secured his notebook under his arm and stepped away nervously. Then Tony turned to Natasha and mused, "It’s not really a dream diary, is it?"

"Go," she snorted, and Tons made to follow the worriedly looking scientist.

"Is there anything in particular that you are interested in, Tony?" the man asked as they stepped into an adjacent hall, "mechanics, maybe?"

"I’m double majoring in electrical engineering and physics. Or, I guess I already graduated as I missed the ceremony because of this surprise holiday. And I had this great idea of a prank which I wanted to play out while doing my valedictorian speech. Wasted opportunity, doc, I tell you."

Tony thought of the party he had definitely missed. He had planned to get absolutely wasted and forget about that guy who –

"Wow, Tony. That’s... impressive, to say the least."

Tony tried to smile cockily, but his heart was not in it.

"So, what’s your poison, Dr. Banner?"

The doctor stopped at a chrome door while his eyes stayed on Tony, tracing his face. But the boy felt nothing heavy like judgement, more something akin to curiosity coming off.

"Well," Dr. Banner started softly, pushing his glasses up his nose while looking down, "I studied nuclear physics. So –"

"Dr. Banner," Tony called out, staring dumbfoundedly at the doctor.

Yes?"

"You are Dr. Banner, the nuclear physicist?! The designer of the gamma bomb?!"

"Uh. Yes," the young man admitted perplexed. Tony wanted to punch his head into the chrome door.

"Oh my god! I can’t believe I just tried to impress you! _You_!"

Dr. Banner helplessly watched Tony’s mental breakdown.

"No need to feel bad, I rarely get recognized by people, so I’m really impressed."

"No no no don’t be impressed with that. Wait till you hear about my bots, _then_ you are allowed to be impressed!"

Dr. Banner smiled curiously at the boy as he opened the chrome door and gestured him to enter.

"Would you tell me about them?"

Tony didn’t need to be asked twice.

 

 

Natasha sat at the same table in the entry room when Tony came back.

"So, how was it?" she asked, even though she could see the answer in the boy's eyes.

"Amazing! And believe me, coming from me that’s a lot."

Tony recounted the machines and tools he had seen, gesturing widely with his arms, before growing disappointed as he saw the infirmary building again.

"When can I start working there?" he asked, biting his lip anxiously.

"Patience, soldier," Natasha tutted, "normally, recruits are not even allowed into the lab. Classified information and all. But you," she winked at him coyly, enjoying his undivided attention, "might just be lucky enough. Come on."

She led him back to his room in the infirmary and sat down, opening her bag.

"I had a talk with the director of this camp. He’s pretty partial to me, you know. And he is willing to allow you into the lab. On a few conditions, of course."

Tony was nodding along, waiting for the catch.

"The director could not permit a mentally unstable kid access to dangerous and top-secret facilities, right? So, you would have to rectify those pesky rumours about bullying that are spreading in the camp."

The boy’s smile fell off his face while the woman talked, sounding as calm as if talking about the weather and not a cover up. His heart started beating faster, loud and deafening as Natasha put a document in front of him, a report typed on it that began with the words "I, Anthony Edward Stark, hereby declare".

Tony forced his eyes away from the paper and stole himself not to look hurt, to stay cool and collected, while Natasha continued talking at him.

"We could find you different quarters, but you would still have to train with the others. It’s a part of the deal made with your father, 3 full months of basic training. But if you could keep from provoking the other boys, something like this wouldn’t happen again, hmm?"

Tony felt like an idiot as he realized what Natasha meant when she had been talking to him like that. He had even said it himself when they were playing chess.

_A cold and calculating woman who does not mind sacrificing others for her goal._

Only had Tony been the game. He wouldn’t be surprised if the woman had lost every game on purpose to foster his ego and win his trust.

"You weren’t really bullied, were you, Tony? I mean, a genius like you would know how to defend himself, right?"

"Right," he whispered monotonously, feeling angry at Natasha, angry at Howard and the director, but mostly at himself. He grabbed the paper in from of him and pushed it into the nightstand.

"I’ll read it later."

Natasha stood quietly and Tony watched her face that didn’t seem to know what reaction was best.

"Of course," she finally asked on her empathic smile, but now Tony saw how easily the woman flickered through expressions to find the right one.

"But don’t take too long. Dr. Strange said you’ll be fit to leave this Friday."

It was a threat if Tony ever heard one.

 

*~*~*

 

After two dial tones, someone picked up the phone and Tony was surprised how much he had missed Jarvis’ voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jarv, it’s me."

"The young Sir, what a pleasant surprise. Your mother has been waiting for your call every day. I presume you would like to speak to her?"

Tony sighed happily, shoulders relaxing. Jarvis always knew what to say to calm him.

"Yeah, please."

 It seemed like forever until Tony heard her voice.

"Tony?"

"Yes, mom."

"Oh, mi Antonio," she made a sound between a sob and a laugh and Tony found himself smiling at his blistered rough hands, so different from his mother’s soft ones.

"I thought I would go mad, waiting to hear from you. I wanted to take Happy and come for you, but your father told me he had already ordered Happy to just drive me in circles around the property until I’m back to my senses. Can you believe that man?"

Tony snorted and could see Hap's face, stuck between feeling sorry for Maria but at the same time scared of Howard.

"Yeah, that sounds like him."

"Oh, Tony. Don’t think he doesn’t care. He’s been cursing you out twice as much lately."

Now Tony couldn’t suppress an amused huff. "And I _definitely_ believe that."

"He misses you."

Tony stayed silent. With his mother he couldn’t really bullshit his way out of talking about feelings. She always saw right through him.

"How is the camp? Are they feeding you well? Is the training hard?"

"It’s okay, you know. I wouldn't give it a five-star yelp review, but. I'll survive."

Tony didn’t like lying to his mother, but he couldn’t help but try to soothe her concern. Even though he really didn't want to talk about him being where he was. He wondered why he had even bothered to call. But then again, his mother’s anxious tone was reason enough. At least someone was worried about him, her tone reassured him. Until he heard a distinct voice in the background.

"You see? I told you he’d be alright. Just needed some tough love."

"Well, I think I gotta go," Tony deflected suddenly, voice hoarse, ending the call with a tight throat.

 

Maria listened to the low beeping tone for a while, eyes glued to the piano she used to play, where Tony used to sit next to her for hours without getting bored. They both hadn’t sat there in a long time, but the piano was squeaky clean, not a grain of dust to be found on the polished black surface or the soft red seat upholstery. As if waiting for their return.

 "… What is he saying?" Howard asked impatiently from the entrance where he had rushed to the living room from his lab, only to casually slump against the door. His hands were still black from oil. The man probably hadn’t even realized it in his careless haste to hear some news on his son. They were so alike, Maria thought, fascinated.

"He left already," she explained softly, lowering the phone.

Her husband seemed to process that, slowly nodding, only to huff afterwards.

"That’s typical of him, isn’t it? His first call in over two weeks and he can’t even make time to calm his worried mother. Typical."

Maria couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s clumsy try to cover his own concern.

"Yeah," she agreed with a sad chuckle, "typical."

 

Tony looked dejectedly at the small screen, counting down the percentage at the top right corner of the screen.

"Don't you dare die on me," he threatened the device with a shaking voice before getting up and sneaking out of the infirmary.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky felt something was wrong as he got closer to his apartment building. There was nothing out of place, no detail that didn’t align, but he had this hunch, just like back then.

_This is ridiculous_ , he thought while his body didn't listen to him, tensed up and crouched. The door was unlocked.

_It's all in my head, it's all in my head…_

It was probably just Steve. There was no need for him to go into survival mode. Without a sound, he sneaked into his apartment, over the hardwood floor and followed the sound of incessant chatter.

"… See, no need to complain, daddy's got you, you whiney little trash box. How's that? Feels good, right?"

Bucky stopped in the door to his kitchen, relaxing slightly at the sight of a too short Tony trying to peek into his hanging cupboards.

"Who the hell are you talking to?"

Tony's hands snapped back, and he looked ready to run, only to grab his heart with a deep sigh.

"Jesus, give a guy a warning."

Bucky just raised his eyebrows expectantly, following the boy's fugitive glance at the phone now plugged into the charger. But no, the screen was dead.

"I just like to talk to myself. Helps me think," Tony finally settled on, turning away as if to continue his treasure hunt in Bucky's home. The older man needed a second until it clicked.

"Did you just talk with the phone?"

"No?"

His voice seemed to say, "Of course not, are you an idiot?" but the way Tony's shoulders hunched instinctively, Bucky had his answer.

"What are you, a phone whisperer? Is that a thing? Snow white of electronics?"

Ignoring Tony's indignant cries, he grabbed the phone and unlocked the screen –  which did not look like his phone anymore. At all.

"What the fuck?"

"It's an update," Tony supplied hastily, fingers flexing as if he might dive for it any second. Shaking his head, Bucky threw the little black device back on the table.

"I don't care, I want it gone."

Slumping even more, the boy nodded and looked suddenly so breakable that Bucky almost felt bad. Ignoring the emotion, he sat down at the table.

"What do you want here? And how did you get in?"

"Really? I magicked the next gen UI on your brick of a phone that is so old I’m surprised it has no rotary dial, and you ask me how I opened a door lock?"

Irritated, Tony waved a piece of wire before rolling his eyes, "and the battery was low. I don't like to work with things that are dead. Just makes me feel dirty. Do you have anything to eat in this place? Because this dump looks too seedy to be nothing but a showroom kitchen."

He leant back against the kitchen counter and observed the older man with a calculating gaze.

"I got a few beers in the fridge."

"I thought alcohol was a big no-no on camp site?" Tony asked curiously but got up anyway to open the fridge and pull two bottles out.

Bucky gave an affirmative grunt and gestured at the younger man to hand him over the bottles. Then he started to unbuckle his pants, openly watching the teen, who got eyes like saucers, licking his lips as if his mouth remembered. It was a ravishing image.

With the belt buckle, Bucky then grabbed the bottle and flipped the cap off with one hand, handing it to the boy, smiling suggestively before opening his own.

"So, you don't mind offering a minor alcohol?" Tony rasped, trying to overplay his embarrassment.

Bucky grinned mischievously as he explained, "Well, after getting a blowjob from said minor, I'd say that ship has fuckin' sailed."

Tony coughed around the mouth of the bottle he had been sucking on moments ago. If he was hoping to play Bucky, the boy would be disappointed. Bucky didn’t have enough self-respect left to be ashamed.

"I admit you got a point. So," he took a few deep breaths before his red face settled back on Bucky, "Is this where you usually get drunk?"

Bucky shrugged his healthy shoulder.

"There's a pub. Far enough not to be swamped with military. Not too far to find the way back drunk."

"I want you to take me," the boy demanded, and Bucky huffed amused.

"Kid, my morals may be skewed, but," he threw Tony a stern look at the raised eyebrows he received that spelled "duh" and went on to explain, "but I'm not suicidal. Getting you in and out of the camp without being seen is practically impossible."

"Challenge accepted," Tony agreed happily as if he had heard different words than Bucky, "So, if I manage to meet you outside, you would take me?"

Bucky sighed and looked helplessly around the room, "I guess?"

"Awesome!" Tony exclaimed, and Bucky wondered if he could make the situation any worse. The younger man had made his way over to him, mentioning, "I'd be really grateful, you know."

He moved to stand in front of the sergeant and gingerly, as if not to spook him, settled on Bucky's lap. He had never kissed the boy, Bucky realized, as he watched those lips wrap around the bottle neck, the same way they had wrapped around something else just a few days ago, his throat working to swallow what had been –

He tried to look away and took a swig off the bottle, before Tony carefully took his bottle away, pushing it onto the table behind him and returning curious eyes to Bucky.

Fuck, he _wanted_ the boy.

And now he couldn't even put the blame on the alcohol. There was something dark and twisted inside him that couldn’t wait to put its sharp claws into that kid, hold him so he couldn't run.

But Bucky couldn't just grab Tony and hold his face while he bit his lips, opening the way into that hot mouth, could he? That would make him a sick bastard, sicker than he already was. But Tony seemed to be able to read his thoughts as his eyes grew darker, light brown irises giving way to dilated pupils, blackened out pools searching Bucky's own before leaning down slowly and pressing a soft kiss on his mouth.

Now with granted permission, Bucky's arm came up to hold the boy’s head, gently, for now, guiding him for a deeper kiss, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue.

Tony's shoulders shook for a moment, before he melted into the touch and sighed around the kiss, arms coming up to rest on Bucky's shoulders. The older man took his time to map out his mouth, the feel of the slightly stubbly hair growing on his shaved head, the tight muscles and the slender waist, where the boy's shirt had ridden up and offered warm skin to touch. In turn, Tony's hands couldn’t decide if they were desperately searching for support or eagerly exploring, switching from pulling on his hair to stroking it, from scratching his back to hugging him.

"Off," the younger one demanded, as he opened all buttons of Bucky's uniform and tried to rip it off, struggling a bit with the prosthetic. Bucky ignored the chunk of plastic strapped onto his shoulder and focused instead on getting Tony's Shirt off over his head.

Pressing closer, Tony returned to kissing him, throwing his head back as Bucky started to lick his neck down. His hips had found a rhythm, grinding down onto Bucky, and with Tony's attention gone, the older man took his time to open the boy's pants with one hand, popping the button and unzipping the material. The boy whimpered and Bucky looked up in eyes screwed shut. He leaned in for a kiss, catching a wet open mouth, and managed to catch Tony by surprise when he grabbed his hardening cock through his underwear.

"Fuck, please," the moaning boy already started pleading against his lips, and Bucky grinned at the rush.

"Please what?"

"Please… Sir?"

_Beautiful_ , Bucky thought and reached into the pants to take him into his hand, feeling a wet tip.

"Good boy," he praised the younger man and felt the cock twitch in his hands. After a few jerks, he lifted his hand to the boy's mouth and ordered, "Spit."

Tony looked scandalised, barely able to meet Bucky's eyes, staring at the open palm until he started to collect saliva in his mouth, face burning, and let a fat drop fall onto Bucky's palm.

"That's it," Bucky purred, getting back to work, massaging Tony until he leaked.

"Now open my pants."

This time, Tony was more determined, grabbing Bucky's pants and yanking them open, then hovering over the last piece of garment.

"What you waiting for?"

With renewed confidence, Tony reached for his cock.

"Lick your palm."

Bucky couldn't stop himself. Tony listened so beautifully, ready and waiting for any command. He licked his palm slowly, thoroughly, before grabbing Bucky again.

"Perfect," Bucky sighed, letting his head fall back, enjoying the feel of those calloused fingers, that friction. Then he made to hold them both together, Tony joining in.

"Look at that, so fucking hot," Bucky rambled, not able to take his eyes off of their cocks rubbing together. Tony was strangely quiet and pliant, his head resting on Bucky's shoulder, hiding. The man understood why as the boy tensed up and came over their hands.

_Fuck, that was fast_. Bucky had the mind not to say it aloud, because Tony still wouldn't lift his head, probably embarrassed. But _fuck_.

He sped up his movement, Tony instinctively following his lead, before coming with a grunt.

The following silence was filled with heavy breaths. Bucky, now worried about Tony being so quiet, imagined petting him, raising his head off his shoulder to see his eyes, but his hand was still covered in come and that plastic arm was useless.

"You alright?" he asked instead, letting the back of his fingers slightly caress the younger man's arm.

"Yeah."

Tony's voice was hoarse, and he apparently took the question as a subtle hint to get up. He grabbed the role of paper towels off the counter, cleaned himself and then stopped in front of Bucky, holding out his hand demandingly.

The older man just watched the boy's closed off face, not understanding, until Tony huffed and grabbed his hand, cleaning it with another paper towel, before cleaning the man's spent cock, putting it away and zipping up the pants.

As he regarded his task as done, Tony turned away, but Bucky grabbed his arm, pulling him back into his lap. Tony made a distressed sound and Bucky didn't know why, but he couldn't just let it rest, let this thing between them end with a bitter aftertaste. No, an egoistic part of him wanted the boy to come back, didn't want to scare him away just yet.

"What’s wrong?" he asked again, trying for soft, but probably missing by a mile. This time, he stroked the boy’s back up and down, with enough pressure to keep him firmly pressed against Bucky’s own chest, giving him the opportunity to hide his face if he felt like it. It took a few moments for Tony to relax back against him.

Then suddenly, he spoke up.

"You hate that arm, don’t you?"

Bucky turned his head to his left side, not having realized that Tony’s attention was focused on the synthetic limb, stroking it absent-mindedly. He grunted, waiting where that conversation would take them.

 "What happened?"

Tony kept touching the thing, which was a strange gesture that Bucky didn’t know what to think of. Maybe it was Tony’s fascination with technical junk.

"It was a mission," he tried, resolutely not seeing snow or blood, not feeling the cold forever creeping into his stump, but still finishing as always, "and I don’t like to talk about it."

"Okay."

Fully counting on the boy's dejection, he did not expect Tony to lift his head to get a glimpse of a tiny smile.

"I mean, it’s fine not to want to talk about it. Right?"

Nodding, Bucky let him get up, grab his shirt and pull it over his head. He really didn’t get that kid, but that’s what he got for screwing with a teenager.

Tony checked the phone and put it in his pocket, satisfied. Turning back to Bucky he casually said, "I’ll see you around. With us being neighbours soon and all."

Bucky snorted before the words really registered.

"What."

Tony just smiled toothily before leaving the room, door closing with a final bang.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy about the feedback from all of you!  
> I'm currently writing a few chapters ahead and building Tony and Rhodey some new friends. Your feedback helps me get another perspective and I actually rewrite some things that I only notice after reading your comments.  
> So, thank you all for bothering to press that little kudos button at the end and for even going through the trouble to comment and share your thoughts with me.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

Tony handed the signed paper to Natasha the next day when she came over.

"Soo," he started, cheekily raising his eyebrows, "now that it’s done, there’s no need for you to stick around, right?" His eyes slide to the door.

Natasha smiled as indulgently as ever and pretended to pout, "No farewell chess game?"

"I think we’re done with the chessboard," Tony deflected, but caught the twitch of the redhead’s mouth.

"I will see you around, Tony." She replied pleasantly, not reacting to his double entendre.

 

Dr. Strange had given Tony the approval to leave the infirmary on Friday. Tony tried not to dwell too long on the question of how much the doctor knew about Natasha’s intentions. The guy made him too uncomfortable to ever trust him, anyway. Natasha on the other hand was a human venus flytrap. Tony had learned his lesson.

Rhodey was helping him move, carrying Tony’s bag he had brought over from the barracks.

"So, what new shithole are they making you stay at?" the dark-skinned boy asked him distrustfully, while Tony led him to the place Natasha had offered him back then.

"Just on the other side from Sergeant Rogers’ quarters, right next to Sergeant Barnes," she had tried to entice him with a sense of safety if he agreed to the deal.

Therefore, now Tony knew where to look for his new place. I was actually a spitting image of Bucky’s quarters: a narrow entry way, a kitchen that led into a small bedroom, a bathroom attached.

"Okay," Rhodey commented, while dropping Tony’s bag and sitting down on the mattress on the metal frame bed. "this does _not_ look like a shithole. Can I stay here, too?"

"You’re always welcome," Tony snorted while leaning against the window, watching the house on the other side of the road.

"So, what’s the deal?"

Tony looked back at his friend who had comfortably laid down, eyes merely slits in his tired face.

"Come on, Tones. They didn’t give you this place because they felt sorry. I may not be a genius, but I’m not an idiot."

"Not an idiot, huh. I’ll have to adjust my opinion of you, then." A pillow hit him straight in the face and Tony screeched violently before jumping on the bed, hitting Rhodes’ stomach with his knees. Which felt like hitting a brick wall. Which was unfair, because all Tony got from the three weeks of training was bruises and strains.

Rhodey managed to put the slimmer teen into a headlock before lying back down onto the mattress with Tony’s grumbling head on his chest.

"Speak."

"I may have signed a paper that claimed I never experienced mistreatment by other recruits or any military personnel."

"WHAT?"

Tony realized too late that it was a bad idea to admit to bad, bad things while being strangled. He tapped on the older boy’s shoulder when he started to suffocate and Rhodey instantly loosened his grip, but his voice turned even angrier, "So, Stone and his asshole gang will get away with everything."

"Honeybear, you really don’t know me very well yet," Tony singsonged, petting the deadly arms that still rested around his neck, "I didn’t say that I wouldn’t do anything about them."

Rhodey let go of him to sit up, staring intently into Tony’s upside-down face.

"I don’t want to know what you’re planning, do I?" he guessed as Tony grinned, and sighed, "but you’re gonna tell me anyway."

Tony couldn’t believe he had lived this long without a Rhodey in his life.

 

At first, he had considered pranking Stone and his friends. Cutting holes into their pants, putting cockroaches under their sheets. Unlocking the fire extinguishers above their bunk beds, letting _them_ soak under water for a change. Payback with Tony’s invisible signature.

On Friday, Tony really couldn’t find enough anger to hate much. Considering all, he ended up in nice quarters right next to Steve and Bucky, far away from Stone and those idiots. He could also start working with Dr. Banner in the lab, something that made Tony absolutely ecstatic.  Why waste time on something tedious like revenge? Stone seemed so far in the past.

But then on Saturday, when he stood again in front of the group of bullies, everything came back like a punch in the gut.

"Look at that fag. Princess woke up from her slumber and is actually dressed this time," Stone leered, causing the boys around him to chuckle.

And even though Rhodey was right beside him and snarled something vicious back, Tony was again naked in the bathroom, huddled on cold tiles when they suddenly grabbed him.

Tony could still feel their cold hands on him, the rubber sole of their boots digging into his skin and leaving bruising, bone-deep imprints. He felt icy water hit his face, his eyes, nose and mouth, drowning with muted laughter in his ears. Stone’s ugly sneer towering over him. He was scared.

And it wouldn't stop, he suddenly realized. Stone would never stop. It felt like nothing had changed at all, and that thought made him angry. He didn't want to feel this way, humiliated, ashamed and weak.

The building tension dissipated quickly as Sergeant Ross came to join them and demand they run their rounds.

They would not get away with petty pranks, Tony decided then.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

From Friday on, Bucky’s life changed more than he could have ever wanted. Which was preferably no change at all, but no one had asked him. Tony Stark, that little shit, had made some kind of deal with Fury, probably his silence for a nice room far away from the guys who were no bullies at all, no Sir.

Bucky hadn’t had anyone living next door since the previous sergeant asked subtly to me moved away as Bucky kept trying to beat his door down, mistaking it for his own in his drunk stupor.

Now an obnoxious teen lived there who just couldn’t seem to wait for Bucky to knock on his door. It was embarrassing and Bucky regretted everything.

Because Tony didn’t just stare at Steve anymore, no. He stared at Bucky, too. Large brown eyes tracing him whenever he moved. Like a stray mutt dying to be petted. He wanted to slap him upside the head instead, but that would make Steve mad and suspicious. Bucky didn’t do emotions, dammit.

Luckily, Steve was having his own Tony-centric issues and didn’t pay much attention to Tony being just generally weird in front of them.

"I don’t like bullies," Steve explained unhappily, leaning with Bucky against the fence at the training area as they watched the recruits in question heading to the canteen, Tony and his new-found friend Recruit Rhodes hanging back.

"And now we can’t do anything about it. Fury let everyone know that Romanoff as the camp counsellor was the only one allowed to investigate. So, of course they threaten him into silence."

When Tony turned around to look at them, he gave a little wave when he saw them watching him back.

Bucky wanted to strangle him.

"He doesn’t really look threatened to me," he replied instead, aiming for dry disinterest, internally still seething about that brat who was now running to keep up with his friend. Steve’s "I suffer the weight of the whole world" sigh ripped him out of his death stare.

"You have talked with him, right?"

Bucky grunted and hoped it would pass as an affirmative. God, he couldn’t believe he ended up lying to Steve, but there was no way his friend wouldn’t kill him if he knew –

"When I asked him what happened, he hunched over and started to panic. He looked like he might have passed out any second, but he still lied to me, talked as if nothing was wrong. Just because he acts normal doesn’t mean he isn’t suffering."

Bucky took a deep breath before pushing himself off the fence. He turned to his best friend, the most sincere and honourable person he knew. This was why he wanted Tony Stark, that scheming little fucker, to stay away. Steve would break his own neck trying to protect those in need of protection. And the Stark kid used that shamelessly.

"He’s old enough to be here, to make his own choices. Even if we don’t like those. Still have to respect that."

Steve watched him with sad blue eyes. Huffing, Bucky threw his good arm over his shoulder and pulled him along.

"I guess you’re right," the blonde admitted, making Bucky snort, "Damn right I am."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

In the lab, Dr. Banner made Tony help him with test tracking.

"This is probably not what you imagined to be doing here, but I’m very grateful for your help. Taking notes while observing test results slows the whole process down," Dr. Banner explained, slightly embarrassed, but Tony didn’t mind. After writing records for about an hour, Dr. Banner let him surf the internet as a reward. And a reward it was.

Tony would destroy Stone in a way that would hurt him. Starting with a fake Grindr account.

 

Afterwards, Tony felt better. Not happier, but more determined. Stone was still a dickhead to him, but under the sergeants' watchful eyes, he wasn't able to get more than a few jabs and shoves in. Tony ignored it, brooding silently. Steve Rogers looked at him like he completely disapproved of Tony’s plan, even though there was no way he knew anything. He tried not to care. He knew now what asking for help would lead to.

And frankly, he had no other options. He couldn't make Stone accountable anymore, not without being questioned, and who would believe the deviant Stark son with the sex tape got molested? No one, that's who. Even Bucky had mentioned Tony getting himself into this situation. Who would Steve believe? Yeah, pretty obvious, this one.

Bucky in the meantime acted like he wouldn’t even touch Tony with a ten-foot pole. Not that it surprised him. He had expected Bucky to pretend he had never seen one Tony Stark in his entire life, but the extra mean glare was just excessive!

And while Tony would have liked to explain it as them covering up sexual tension, Bucky had never really approached Tony. Nope, Tony was the slut that threw himself at the man. For blackmail purposes, at first, at least he tells himself that. But now?

He couldn’t help but stare at the silently brooding guy next to Steve –  Steve who was a superhero incarnate.

It was hard to look at Bucky and not see a creepy murderer. But then he remembered how the man had looked at Tony the last time they had been together, when he hadn’t known what to say, but had held him tight. Tony wondered what had happened to him.

He also had the strange intuition that Bucky Barnes was a secret cuddle-kitten.

As if he had heard the thought, said kitten lifted his deadly eyes to throw him a murderous stare.

Yeah, maybe not.

Anyway, Tony concluded that they would have to repeat their nightly activities so that he could make sure that Bucky was still into this – whatever it was, at least physically. For science.

 

*~*~*

 

During the same week, Tony started to really understand what a great fortune he had to meet someone like James Rhodes. He had never had a friend like that, someone who didn’t chose his friends by looking at their bank accounts.

Rhodey was actually 21 years old, grew up in a small flat in Philadelphia with his ma and a sister. He went to a public school and made it to university with a scholarship.

Unlike Tony, Rhodey had fought for his education and financial stability for his family, things that Tony took for granted. Tony never felt the 17 years like in that moment.

It was a ridiculous comparison and Rhodes had laughed when Tony told him, but Rhodey was that kid from the cartoons. The one who gave up the race to go save his friends, who spent his hard-earned pocket money to buy flowers for his mother’s birthday. He was the kind of guy Steve would like. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he did something for someone else. And that made him question if he had _ever_ done something selfless. Yeah, he had to think long about that one.

Rhodey understood Tony’s sassy jokes as the poor attempts to make him laugh they were, never taking offense, even when he was being ridiculous.

So, Rhodey was a chance for him to be something better, maybe something worth keeping not just for money, fame or opportunities. Which was a challenge, because Tony’s first instinct was to throw money at him.

 

"Tones, I swear, if you keep buying these delicious sinful godsent treats, I’ll get fat. Do you know how long it takes for muscles like these to grow?" Rhodey looked hilarious holding a cupcake while pointing at his abs offended.

Well, throwing a little teeny tiny bit of money around couldn’t hurt.

Tony lifted his shades, eyeing his friend scrutinisingly, "You’re looking good, stud muffin. Believe me, the ladies and gents are gonna be all over that." He vaguely pointed in Rhodes direction before pushing the shades back over his eyes and licking his ice cream. Rhodey seemed to ponder his reply, until shrugging and pushing the whole cupcake in his mouth.

"So, back to project ‘digital angel’. I have planted the seeds, which now need to grow."

Tony was now merely checking the tasks off of his list on Bucky’s phone. It may have gotten a new update, but the internet connection of the camp was still guarded more securely than Tony's porn folder. So instead, he had to do all groundwork on the lab pc.

"It will take a few days. In the meantime, I need a man on the inside."

"I’m your man on the inside," Rhodey complained with something close to a whine. Tony only rolled his eyes and held up the pastry box.

"Everyone knows you’re my man on the inside. I need someone else who isn’t under scrutiny, someone who can get close to Ross without looking suspicious. And he must be willing to help me."

He then continued to lick his ice cream cone for dramatic effect, before announcing, "Clint."

"Barton??"

Rhodey let the cupcake hover in front of his mouth.

"Tony, that guy’s a scoundrel. I heard he has a criminal record, no idea how he even made it here. He would agree to help you only to sell you to the highest bidder."

That was good for Tony, though. As long as the stakes were in his favour, he could be sure to know who Barton worked for.

"But he kinda sounds like fun. Do you think I could buy his services with cupcakes?"

Tony’s pout was met with an incredulous stare. God, his Rhodeybear was so patient with him.

"It’s a symbol! For the carrot. Actually, it’s even a better symbol than the carrot. I call it the 'cupcake or stick approach'. So, you said he has a criminal record?"

Tony wiggled his eyebrows, wiggling the sunglasses along with it.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock. Tony and Rhodey looked at the window, blinds closed, thank god, then at the strewn burger boxes, the sweets and then at each other, wide-eyed.

_Shit._

Tony mouthed "bathroom" while pushing Rhodey hastily to the little window that did now at a closer look not seem to fit a full-grown Jim Rhodes. The man grumbled something along the same lines, but they didn’t have time, so Tony pushed him and hoped Rhodey might turn out to be a little squishy like a cat. Hoping for the best turned out to be a great idea, because Rhodey fell out of the window with a good shove from Tony. The teen closed the window quickly, before shooing his friend away (god, now he was stuck on the cat metaphors), and then went back to the front of the apartment. There was a knock again, louder this time, and Tony hurried to open the front door.

It was dark, the personal time almost up before it meant lights out in the barracks. But Tony would recognize this creepy silhouette anywhere.

"Well hello Mr. axe murderer. Do you need some sugar? Because – ugh!"

Bucky pushed his way into the hallway, marching straight into Tony’s bedroom. When Tony followed him, he saw the man staring at the garbage strewn around the room, the empty cartons and plastic trash. Bucky was seething.

"Cupcake?" Tony asked, still holding his ice cream cone and watching the man through red tinted shades, because apparently, he had no survival instinct.

"Do you have any idea what would happen if someone else saw this?" Bucky asked, voice quivering with anger, "You are goddamn lucky Steve hasn’t bothered to check on you yet. Because if he did? He’d be calling Ross before you could think of an excuse. Fuck, you know I keep some beer in my fridge, but I’m a grown man and I can handle the consequences. Can you, though? Can you go back to the dorm? Shower with Tiberius Stone and his scooby gang?"

Tony felt sick while listening to his secrets being dragged out into the open.

"They can’t. I’ve signed – "

"A fucking piece of paper that you handed over? You think that’s gonna save you if you cause them more trouble? This is not your playground bully, kid. This is the military director of SHIELD that you’re messing with. And if they find you crossing the line, or just pissing on it, really, they will ruin you. Believe me, Stone is a dear sweetheart compared to Fury."

Tony gritted his teeth, angry and a bit ashamed. He knew he was playing with fire, but this was like second nature to him. Tony Stark was a show man. Being reduced to a stupid kid made him want to lash out, but that would let people know that it hurt, that he cared. So, he raised his head high and watched Bucky through his glasses.

"Funny, but I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Sir Drinksalot. Do you really want to talk with me about not breaking rules? Because I might also have a story about inappropriate behaviour in the workplace, if Ross wants to hear it."

It was below the belt, and as expected, Bucky fletched his teeth, hissing, "See if I fucking care."

Then he grabbed his phone that was, of course, lying conveniently available on the bed and left the apartment. Tony stayed behind alone with anger and blooming regret.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky wanted to shoot something – or someone – but he had made the mistake to head over to Steve first thing and his best friend did not approve of him shooting when mad.

He knew Steve was watching him, but as long as he didn’t bother him, it was fine with Bucky. Usually, he had a really good instinct when he should give Bucky some room or when to push it. Usually.

"Why are you so agitated?" Steve finally prompted, watching Bucky fiddle with his glass which was filled with water. The last time he got wasted he got screwed over by a kid.

"Is it about the car? You worried who it might be?"

"It’s not about the fucking car." Because he damn well had an idea who that might be.

For a few days now, a black SUV was spotted around the camp site. Bucky would bet his left testicle that it was Tony’s contact supplying him with goods. It was just a matter of time until he got caught, the next punishment just a question of when, not if.

"It’s Tony."

Steve’s words ripped him out of his thoughts and Bucky tried to look neutral, waiting for an explanation.

"Buck," his best friend started, and Bucky hated that sensitive tone that meant he was about to be honest now. "I see how you look at him."

Fuck. He couldn’t know, right?

"He’s staring at _you_ all the time," Bucky tried to correct his friend with a raspy voice, but Steve’s eyes stayed soft yet adamant.

"He does. It’s like he never met a person who was nice to him. Like he wants to make sure I’m still there. But Buck, you _watch_ him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bucky snorted, trying desperately to deflect, but Steve only smiled softly.

"I thought I was seeing things, at first. But the way you're tracking him, like you always want to know where he is…"

His throat was dry suddenly.

"You’re worried about him."

"I’m not –"

Shit, he was worried. That kid was asking, no, _begging_ for trouble. Maybe he was worried about saving his own skin. That would make sense.

"Because he reminds you of yourself."

"Are you my fuckin’ therapist?"

Steve huffed. Bucky knew he would have rolled his eyes if he weren't trying so hard to act the Captain.

"No, but you would maim Romanoff if she’d serve you the truth straight up."

Bucky went to _war_. That Stark kid was a rich brat who just got slapped around a little. How could he relate to that?

He tried to picture the boy in his gear, climbing that train somewhere in nowhere in winter, hands so cold they could barely hold on until they finally couldn’t, a slip with horrible consequences.

It was strange how it was easier to think of it if imagining it happened to someone else. But at the same time, imagining Tony to go through all that filled him with dread. That kid couldn’t even climb a rope if his life depended on it. He already got that wounded look when Stone just said something mean, despite pretending everything was fine.

Goddammit, he was worried about that kid.

Steve smiled, as if he could see Bucky’s brain work it out. "It’s not a bad thing. To care."

It was if it involved fucking a minor. Bucky was an idiot.

"I'm going to sleep."

Grudgingly, he got up and left Steve’s place. There were shadows moving in the lit-up bedroom on the opposite side of the street, right next to his blackened-out apartment windows.

Disturbed by his thoughts, he marched straight to his apartment and closed the door behind him with a determined slam.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Approaching Clint without anyone realizing, not even Clint himself, was a difficult endeavour and frankly impossible, Tony came to understand. They were too out in the open during training and Clint was a sneaky bastard who would bail the moment he sniffed a trap.

Therefore, they had no other choice but to ask him and trust his rogue curiosity. They used Tony’s talent to create drama out of thin air and, as he fell off a jumping box, taking down as many recruits as possible, Rhodey used the opportunity to slip Clint a note. They lured him in with a time and place.

Of course, Barton knew who was waiting for him, judging by his casual swagger as he walked up to them.

"If it isn’t Simon and Theodore. What’s up, have you lost Alvin?"

"Who of us is the fat chipmunk?" Rhodey muttered, turning to Tony, but the younger man just waved the question away.

"It has to be you, since I’m obviously the clever one. It’s a bad metaphor, anyway."

They both turned back to Barton, Rhodey still grumbling under his breath.

Clint Barton was shorter than Tony remembered, basically the same height as Tony. At one point, they should stand shoulder to shoulder and check. Despite his short height, he was well built, something that Tony begrudged him. He was 18, Tony had researched. Dirty blonde hair and a face that probably wouldn’t look half as deceitful if it didn’t belong to Barton.

"What do you want?" the man asked impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We want you to come to the dark side. We have cupcakes."

"Tony," Rhodey sighed, fed up with the teen's bullshit.

"We gotta try the carrot first, pumpkin," Tony reminded him patiently.

"Seriously? I’m curious, but not curious enough to listen to you fags bicker like a married couple."

Barton didn’t move while Rhodey made to go for an attack, only stopped by Tony’s hand. Rhodes grew up hearing racial slurs, always ready to fight to defend his family and himself. Tony on the other hand had no one to back him up and news about the Stark heir involved in a fight were Howard’s favourite topic to scold Tony about. No, Tony’s weapon of choice were words alright. This he could handle.

"I want you to do something for me, ‘hawkeye’."

Barton stiffened, causing Tony’s grin to widen. "That was you, right? ‘the world’s greatest marksman’? What a name! You were bound to become famous!"

"What are you talking about, Tones?" Rhodey asked completely lost. Barton opened his mouth, but Tony was faster.

"See, dear Clint here... ran away from the circus! Where he climbed poles like a little monkey and shot balloons to impress little kids." Tony laughed at Barron’s reddening, angry face. "And that’s when he started to steal. But back to the fun part. Did you wear a costume? What colour was it?"

"What the fuck do you want, Stark?" Barton sounded pissed. Tony just kept smiling, as he was upgraded back to his last name. Baby steps.

"I need you to smuggle something for me."

He threw something at the guy, which Barton caught without looking. Then his eyes dropped to the small items, irritated.

"Are those hazelnuts?"

"That was a test. Which you passed, by the way! Did you catch all three of them? Amazing, ‘hawkeye’ indeed."

"Stop calling me that," Barton grunted between clenched teeth. "If this is all you called me here for, I’m leaving."

"Hey hey, no need to sulk, birdy." Tony raised his hands up, palms out in a placating manner. Even Rhodey was huffing by now, so he was probably close to getting murdered for being annoying.

"Okay, here’s the deal. I need you to get Ross’ key for the inventory where he keeps our belongings."

"And what for?"

"Ah ah. You need to agree first."

Barton eyed him up, as if reassessing, then he grinned.

"Fair. So, what’s in it for me?"

"You know who I am," the teen argued instead, "I can give you whatever you want, of course. Money? Things? Your criminal record sealed?"

Barton opened his mouth, but Tony steamrolled over him.

"But those are things you could probably arrange on your own, right? Instead, I offer you a special favour. A Stark favour, if you will. Whatever you might one day need, I’ll deliver."

The archer watched them narrowly, considering his options before rolling his eyes with a smirk.

"As if I’d decline a Stark owing me."

He held out his hand to shake. His grip was strong as he announced, "I’m in."

 

*~*~*

 

Bucky’s words had pissed Tony off beyond belief, but it had also made him more cautious. He needed more safety precautions when operating the systems in the lab for his own purposes. Without a doubt they were tracking all his actions and the fact that Natasha seemed to act at the director’s instruction made him especially wary of hidden traps. So, Tony turned the game around and downloaded his own spy program on the computer. Something small that would be hard to detect and had no signature on it to track the data flow.

In the meantime, he had to find another cover in the lab. Not that he wanted this stupid SHIELD camp to profit off of him really, but there was Dr. Banner encouraging him to take up a project of his own and doing a project with Dr. Banner was a bait he couldn’t resist.

"I can set you up with a team if you would like," Dr. Banner proposed softly, "most are focused on intelligent weapons. There is one on autonomous bullets, for example. Still in its infancy, though."

Tony thought about the hand grenade that had landed in front of him, adorned with the sleek SI logo. Then he thought of SI bullets that could kill anyone with one shot – and yeah, he did not want his name on that.

The physicist had gotten up and moved to a tall cabinet, opening rows and searching for something. "There are also abandoned projects, dropped due to limited resources or limited success. Ah, there it is." He lifted some files and brought them over, laying them down in front of Tony.

"Really, Dr. Banner? Manual copies?" Tony asked amused, watching Dr. Banner shrug.

"As a wise man once said, 'there is nothing that can't be hacked'."

Tony fought hard not to flinch, recognizing the words as something Howard had once said in a journal. He threw the scientist an annoyed look. Dr. Banner just smiled innocently, gesturing to the files. The boy flipped through the pages, skimming over titles and technical drawings, stopping short on a detailed illustration of an arm.

"What's this?" he asked curiously, already reading through the article himself. This was not creation, but a deconstruction manual.

"Oh no," Dr. Bruce cried, quickly grabbing the files out of Tony's hand with surprising strength, "I'm sorry, this was not supposed to be here."

"That's no prosthetic, that's an implant," Tony theorized, still seeing the scientific text in front of his eyes, "to reverse-engineer something like that means you have it already."

Dr. Banner watched him speechlessly.

"Can I see it?" Tony asked sweetly.

The scientist sighed, taking the glasses of his nose. "I'm not sure, Tony, I'll have to ask the head of the department, maybe get an Okay from Director Fury as well."

Tony nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Tell them that this," he pointed at the file Dr. Banner was trying to hide behind his back, "is my project."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky had to fight for his hand not to tap on his leg, while he stared over Romanoff's head out of the window.

The woman eyed him, unmoving like a statue, before she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"You still avoid wearing your prosthetic."

Bucky suppressed grumbling that he was wearing it now, knowing it would just end their discussion and sent him back with nothing but a polite reprimand.

"It's useless."

"You could get the old one – "

"No," Bucky interrupted her before she could finish her suggestion. He realized he was angling his vulnerable shoulder away as if for protection, but it was too late to correct the movement. Romanoff had already seen and analysed his behaviour.

"You are more defensive than usual. While you try to engage in a conversation, you are still unwilling to offer any information."

Bucky wished sometimes he had two hands so he could cross them over his chest. Now the only way he could show his dismissal was the middle finger which wouldn't fly with Romanoff. He returned to grunting, "This is not a counselling session, after all."

"No, it's not," Romanoff agreed neutrally, observing the large window front showing the entry way to her left, because she knew it made him less nervous when she didn't stare at him directly. Bucky hated her for trying to trick her way into his head.

"And as per Director Fury's orders, we cannot consider your request for a return to active duty as long as you don't pass your psychological evaluation. And seeing as we have not progressed at all this whole month, I'm afraid I’ll have to decline again."

He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and thinking about how he could change the outcome of this conversation like a level in a computer game that he just couldn't seem to pass, when he saw movement behind the window front.

"Is there anything else, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky tried not to jerk his eyes, instead throwing Romanoff a reproachful look before taking a sweeping glance around the office, through the parted blinds again at the hallway.

_That little fucker._

"Okay, if this –"

"No, wait!"

As Romanoff started to get up, Bucky's hand reached out to her, stopping mid-air. Absentmindedly, he thought of something to say, anything to grab her attention, that would make her sit down.

"The prosthetic, it's. Heavy. And impractical. Do you know how long it takes to dress that thing?"

Romanoff stared at him, knowing that it was the first time Bucky was willing to share personal experience, but at the same time utterly lost on what to do with it.

"It doesn't help me at all, not when shooting or fighting, it's just that. Dead weight." He lifted his hand to brush through his hair, partially hiding his face as his eyes searched the hallway. "When I wear it, it's more obvious what I've lost."

"That's… reasonable. But we cannot send you out with only one arm."

"Why not?" he asked distractedly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as something moved again.

"There’s nothing against amputees returning to work, but you have to be able to perform at the same level as every other soldier. Tell me, can you still disassemble a rifle in 30 seconds?"

Bucky’s attention returned to the redhead, with dread registering the direction their conversation had taken. "I’m a sniper. I don’t need to. Disassembling my rifle on a mission would risk inaccuracy on the first shot.”

"That may be true, but we can’t make exceptions to the rule for you. You already received indulgences thanks to Captain Rogers stepping in for you. But to return to active duty, you need to stop avoiding your trauma, mentally and physically. Because frankly, your new prosthetic may not be of the same make as the one you came back with," Bucky flinched at her words, but Romanoff kept going without hesitation, "but it’s a well-developed device with artificial joints that are as close to the real thing as technologically possible. And until you show willingness to face your nightmares and come to terms with what happened to you, I can’t give you a positive psych eval."

Her words left Bucky speechless, before the anger came rushing back.

Face your nightmares, she says. As if it was all just a bad dream and not something he had lived through. Romanoff had no idea what he had done.

"So, you’re pretty much benching me."

A pitying expression crossed Romanoff’s face, which was enough for Bucky to hoist himself up and stamp out of the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tony was leaning against the vent, listening as the noise died down, when the door was thrown open. He instinctually dropped on all fours, hoping the desk would hide him, when heavy boot steps came closer into view on the carpet, passing the desk and stopping right in front of him.

"Why the fuck do I always find you in places you’re not supposed to be?" Bucky hissed, grabbing him by the collar and pulling Tony on his feet.

"We’ve got to stop meeting like this," Tony quoted, but raised his hand defensively at Bucky’s furious face.

"What are you doing in Ross’ office? And where is the rest of your ragtag group?"

"For your safety, I should not answer any of those questions," Tony sassed back, trying to look as wide-eyed and innocent as possible.

Bucky snorted as his fingers flexed on Tony’s collar, grabbing him more tightly only to relax again.

"I should beat your ass six ways to Sunday, you bratty, annoying little shit."

The man was pressing him into the desk and Tony got scared and interested, not sure what outcome he should be hoping for or dreading.

Was Bucky still mad about Tony playing him? Probably.

Was he turned on? Definitely, judging by the hardness pushing into Tony's hip.

The boy pressed his lips together, holding a smart-ass reply back that was forming on his tongue, not wanting to chase Bucky away again. Not when _Bucky_ was coming on to _him_.

Instead, almost apologetically, he raised his hand and put it on Bucky's neck, trying to pull him closer.

"No," Bucky snarled and turned the boy around instead, hand bruising on his hip, while his teeth sank into the exposed neck. Tony gasped at the pain and had to plant his hands on the table to keep himself from elbowing Bucky by reflex. It hurt, but he also felt Bucky pushing against his butt, taking his attention away from the pain.

A wet tongue licked the mark left behind while a hand started roaming Tony's body, opening buttons, lifting hems, unbuckling pants.

"Look at that," the man murmured in Tony's ear with hot breath, stroking Tony from his hip bone down to his underwear, pulling his hardening cock out, "that's all you need to get going, don't you? Such a desperate slut."

Tony felt his cock twitch while his face heated up. It was so dirty, nothing Tony had ever experienced before, but it made his mind go crazy with the need to agree.

"Hold it," Bucky commanded as he pressed the hem of Tony's shirt into his hands. He loosened the boy’s pants and boxer shorts until they dropped below Tony's butt. Tony stood waiting like that, his stomach and hard cock full on display, while Bucky fumbled with his own pants, sighing finally as his hand returned to Tony's cock, his own underwear-clad errection rubbing against Tony's bare ass.

"Such a good little whore," Bucky continued with a pleased rumble that made Tony's knees weak.

"Anyone would do it for you, huh? See all those guys outside?"

Tony lifted his head where it had dropped against Bucky's chest and registered, mortified, that he saw the wide training field through the window blinds ahead of him, where military staff and recruits were passing alike.

"Anyone could see you like that, see what a perverted slut you are. Would you bend over for them, too? Just offer yourself to anyone willing to fill you up?"

Bucky was speeding up, his hips humping Tony's ass through his briefs, but his hand on Tony's cock was not moving, only resting at the base. Tony was going mad, absolutely humiliated at the outlook of being seen like this, but also turned on beyond believe at the idea of being put on display like that.

"Please," he begged, too far gone on the phantasy to mind, "please, Sir."

"What? What do you want?" Bucky teased him, playing with the tip of his cock, "want me to fuck you?"

"Yeah," Tony sighed, trying not to stare at the people passing outside who could discover them if they just looked. But his cock twitched and dripped precome, revealing Tony as the pervert he was.

"How many guys have fucked you, Tony?" Bucky kept on questioning, his hand back on his hip with a rough grip, pulling and pushing Tony as he ground his covered dick down onto the warm, naked butt, pushing between the cheeks, as if not even thinking of relieving Tony.

"Please," Tony whined again, not wanting to expose himself like that, feeling humiliated already.

"How many," Buck demanded with a scathing voice.

And Tony gave in, horny like crazy, "J-just one."

Bucky's hips stopped. "You're lying."

"No, please, I-I swear," Tony whined, hips trying to press back against Bucky, trying to find some friction.

The movement dragged Bucky out of his stupor, and he pulled back forcefully.

"Fuck," he grunted, and Tony glimpsed back to watch him fumble his pants back up, his erection wilting under nervous hands.

Still hard and holding on to the hem of his shirt, Tony turned around fully to face the man. "Bucky?" he whispered, feeling insecure and a bit shaken, naked and vulnerable as he was, but Bucky wasn't looking at him, instead finishing buckling his pants and pressing his hand against his face, head hanging low.

"Fuck," the man groaned again and sounded so pained that Tony didn't know what to say, how to act. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Bucky’s hand back on his neck, wanted him to tell Tony what he needed, all calm authority and teasing touch.

He tried to touch him, but Bucky stepped away with a hiss, turning to the door and dashed out of the office without another glance back.

It took him some time to get himself under control and Tony realized with some relief that his hard-on was dying down, allowing him to buckle up his pants as well.

Not knowing what he might have done wrong, he waited, listening to the clock on the wall, a deafening beat in the otherwise silent office. Outside of the window he saw militaries passing by, knowing nothing of what happened inside Ross' office. And Tony wouldn't be able to explain either, if asked. He tried to swallow around the nervous lump in his throat, made sure his shirt was tucked into his pants, and then slinked out of Ross' office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Bucky is hitting rock bottom.  
> I rewrote this part so often and I wonder if the end is too cruel, but I decided to go through with it.  
> Let me know your thoughts and thank you for your feedback. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Tony found Rhodey loitering a short distance from the office complex, looking totally suspicious. He joined Tony when he saw him heading back to his apartment, grumbling, "Hey, took you long enough. Barton already left, seems like it all worked out fine."

Tony grinned. "Of course, it did. Was my plan, after all."

But instead of smiling back, Rhodey eyebrows drew together in concern.

"What's wrong?"

"What? Nothing."

"Bullshit." Rhodey stopped, but Tony kept on marching right ahead.

"Hey!"

Speeding up, Rhodey fell in step next to him, observing Tony quietly until they made it into his apartment.

"Does this have anything to do with Sergeant Barnes storming out of the office looking like he got Vietnam flashbacks?" the older boy asked, leaning against the windowsill with crossed arms while Tony collapsed on the bed.

"That’s none of your fucking business!" Tony suddenly exploded, glaring at his friend viciously. Rhodey only dropped his hands at his side.

"Don't do this, Tones. Don't push me away."

Tony wanted him to scream so he could throw him out of the house, but he couldn't keep his cool when Rhodey was being so honest.

"It's my fault," he admitted shamefully, throwing his arms over his face as he lay his head back down, trying to hide stupid tears that burned in his eyes, soaking them up in his sleeves before any could escape, "I don't even know what it was that I said or did. There's a lot to choose from, actually."

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Rhodey's voice asked close by, before a hand softly carded through his hair.

" _I_ happened. That's me, Tony Stark, ruining people's lives since I was born."

Rhodey snorted but kept on petting his head.

"Not to rain on your little pity party, but I don't think you get to take all that credit."

Tony wanted to let him know that yes, he definitely could since he was the one who started screwing with Bucky. He didn’t even know why. Was it payback for what he said back then? Or curiosity? Maybe it was pure chance. Was that what he was upset about?

Regardless, he was scared of what Rhodey would think of him. He really didn't want to lose the only real friend he had ever made.

"Never leave me, honeybear!" he declared with a shove at the boy who grunted surprised and almost fell off the bed.

"Keep pushing me like that and this problem will solve itself."

"Oh, come one, what are those muscles good for?" the boy asked again, poking Rhodes' stomach with a pointy finger.

"The better to strangle you with," the taller boy explained with teeth bared and Tony took the warning to heart, drawing his fingers back to safety before he ended up in a headlock again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The forest was quiet, as if waiting for the bang to scare the birds away, up into a grey, overcast sky. But Bucky, lying on the dirty ground of the clearing, head up far enough to peer over the high grass, was using a silencer, hitting the target at the centre over and over. The noise would have been a nice way to express his anger, but he liked to imagine a vicious kill, a shot out of nowhere. He liked to see the faces of the men who had taken him, who had done this to him, dying not knowing what hit them, one after the other, falling like flies. No way to escape. He would give up the desire for revenge, the desire to inflict the same pain on them as he was forced to suffer. He would, if he could just be sure they’d be dead. He just needed one chance.

His ringing phone pulled him out of his dark thoughts. Eyeing the caller ID flashing on the new phone interface, Bucky rejected the call after a moment. Getting up on his knees, he emptied the magazine before storing the rifle in its case. The sun would be setting any moment, he realized, as he got up to march back. It was past eight o’clock, meaning the recruits were finally free to enjoy their personal time. There was laughter coming out of a dormitory complex as Bucky walked by. He passed the lab building and saw some scientists leave the building, done for the day. He quickly duck his head and sped up his pace. Just before reaching the apartment buildings, he recognized a familiar face. Agent Coulson had seen him as well, as he stopped and waved at him, but Bucky couldn’t talk now and hurried past. Stopping in front of his apartment, Bucky hesitated and turned away, knocking twice before opening the door to the apartment on the other side.

"Hey Buck, you alright?" Steve asked concerned, leaning out of the kitchen into the hallway.

Bucky shrugged his shoulder, not looking at his friend.

"Can I crash here?"

"Sure, of course. Come on."

Steve was wise enough not to say anything. He led Bucky into his bedroom, pushed his shoulders to sit him down and unlaced his boots. Bucky was too done to give a fuck, only protested when Steve started on his prosthetic. He ripped that thing off over his head and dropped it on the floor, finally giving into gravity and falling onto the mattress. Steve settled behind him, a good distance away, but close enough to grab him if he had a nightmare again.

It was quiet for a long time. The longer he lay there, the more Bucky could feel the pain in his arm, crawling from the shoulder into his muscles, passing the elbow, into the forearm down to his hand. He could swear every finger hurt, twitched with pain, but a look down his body showed him that there was nothing, nothing left to hurt.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be out on the field, preferably alive, and continue where he left off, emptying his rifle and himself on the battleground.

How could they send him _here_?

All these kids had no idea. Bucky hated them, but also hated looking at them, afraid of who would one day remember him and curse that crippled sergeant for never telling them the truth.

They would always loose, come back missing something. If not a limb, then a friend. Hopes. Dreams. Self-respect. The will to live.

Bucky had lost almost everything out there, but he didn’t come back empty.

They gave him an arm, and so much more came with it. It was like a parasite, a living breathing thing inside him that told him to kill with a voice that turned him cold from the inside out. Sometimes he could feel the predator rising, an angry, dreadful monster just under his skin, playing Bucky like a puppet.

It made him wish he was empty.

On days like today, he wondered how much man he really was and how much monster.

"Breathe," Steve whispered, and Bucky realized he was sobbing from imagined pain, an overwhelming panic almost suffocating him. How could something that was no longer there still torture him like that? It took him hours to shut his brain down.

 

When he woke, he was alone in Steve’s light-flooded bedroom. Glancing around, he saw his clothes neatly folded on the chair, the prosthetic resting on top. His rifle case stood forgotten on the floor, his phone on the nightstand, blinking with a missed call.

Bucky awkwardly turned in the bed to free his arm and pick the thing up. He read again the same caller ID flashing on the modern screen.

Why would someone save a contact under that word?

Without thinking much about it, Bucky pressed the call button and waited. After a second, a man picked up.

"Thank God, he lives! Next time you don’t pick up, Tony, I’m asking Howard to send me as your bodyguard. And you know what that means? No more delivery runs for you, no more cheeseburgers... you hear me?"

"So, you’re ‘Happy’," Bucky stated, listening to the sudden silence. The man had apparently lost his bravado.

"Uh, depends on who’s asking?"

Bucky snorted.

"What is this, a gangster movie? Are you a drug dealer?"

"No! I’m Happy. The driver. Of the Starks."

So _that’s_ the guy in the SUV. And he was also the only person Tony bothered to save in Bucky’s phone.

He held the advice in front of his face, checking the call log, before returning it to his ear, slowly lowering himself onto his back, staring at the bare white ceiling.

"Why is he calling _you_ every day?"

Happy’s voice continued on the phone, "Look, he’s homesick, but he doesn’t want to talk to his dad. So, I’m the middleman, I guess?"

"And the delivery guy," Bucky added drily. He heard Happy huff.

"And the delivery guy. I mean, could you say no to his begging face? When he gets all teary eyed and pitiful?"

Bucky had an absolutely inappropriate and detailed memory of what that looked like.

"So, you’re his friend?” Happy rambled on, now that the secret was out, ”He said he thought he made one, but to be honest, I didn’t believe him at first. That boy doesn’t know what he’s doing most of the time, but what you really gotta be worried about is when he _does_. He’s a good kid, though. At least he’s trying, when he gets a chance."

Something vile twisted his stomach. Bucky didn’t give him a chance, did he? No, he had thought he knew enough about the Stark heir.

It was quiet for a moment and when Happy raised his voice again hesitantly.

"Hey, can you watch him? For me? Just... make sure no one's too rough on him, you know. He would never admit it, if he needed help. Just. Be a friend, okay?"

He should tell the man he was no friend, Bucky thought. He was always better at handling the truth. But he also couldn’t forget the image of a boy shaking under his heavy hand, brown eyes following him. What has Steve said?

_It’s like he never met a person who was nice to him._

Could it be that Tony had a really shitty habit of picking assholes to trust?

 _Joke’s on him,_ the lingering monster in his mind whispered, _I’m no better._

"Hello? I don’t think I got your name," Happy’s voice noted, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts.

With a heavy sigh Bucky closed his eyes.

"I’ll see what I can do."

Cutting Happy’s complain off, he ended the call.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

A day later the stage was set.

Barton had the annoying habit of whistling when he got excited. But maybe he got excited because his whistling annoyed the hell out of Tony.

"I’m serious, birdbrain. One more chirp and I’m shooting."

"As if you could hit. I saw how you shoot."

Tony wanted to say that had nothing to do with shooting, but with a glaring, brooding man being M.I.A. the last day.

Instead, he huffed indignantly.

"Well, someone had to entertain the audience that obviously got bored with you hitting all marks."

"Obviously," Clint repeated sarcastically, but had a Cheshire grin on his face.

"So, the suit," Tony started, exploiting Clint's good mood, which soured instantly hearing Tony's words, " What colour was it? If I had a suit, it would be my favourite colours, red and gold. What colour is your favourite? It's blue, isn't it?"

Shaking his head disbelievingly, Clint turned away. "Wrong as always, Stark."

They were on their way to the canteen. Clint tended to hang back with them every now and again but disappeared as soon as the mood got friendly.

"Like a really pissed off stray cat," Tony explained to Rhodey over lunch, making him chuckle.

Rhodey just grunted while shoving another spoonful of mashed potato into his mouth.

They were rushing, because today a new training cycle was supposedly starting. Tony hoped they got to keep Steve.

 

He almost fist bumped the air when the tall blonde Captain was waiting for them in the gym. Bucky was absent again and Tony couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

Steve wasn't alone though, as a group of recruits Tony had seen on camp was standing in a row behind him.

"Hello everyone, I’m happy to see you all doing fine, glad you all are hanging in there. You’re gonna make your country proud. Now, this week starts your non-weapon full-contact combat training. This is what we were preparing you for in the last weeks. For this, two recruit teams are put together. You will train in mixed pairs and I want to see you fight honest and honourable. Is that clear?"

Tony was excited for a moment, imagining himself winning in a fight and impressing all his fellow recruits, until he looked around and realized this was just the perfect opportunity to beat him up without an excuse.

_That’s so gonna backfire..._

But he couldn’t keep whining. Since he had arrived, Tony had built some strength. He didn’t sport muscles like Rhodey, not by far, but he wasn’t the weak leaf in the wind he had arrived as. That had to count for something, right? Steve was explaining the rules and Rhodey had a supportive arm on his back. They would _do_ this.

A weird atmosphere of excitement and tension built around them, Tony obviously not the only one who was looking forward to testing his skills. Steve picked one recruit to come to the front to help him demonstrate the movements, which made Tony incredibly jealous, but also relieved. No way was he not getting a boner sparring with Steve.

Sparring. With Steve.

Ugh.

Then he tried to imagine sparring with Bucky _(he would be mean, push him around until Tony was on the ground, then tease him with dirty talk and intimate touches)_ and yep, he should definitely stop being creative right now.

The others cheered already while Steve tried to keep them calm, reminding them to focus on the movement. And as the moves got longer and more complicated, Tony actually had to concentrate to remember the steps.

"Did you all see that?" Steve asked after getting up, clapping the recruit in the shoulder.

"Then I want you to find a partner and try it. Remember, mixed teams. Get to know each other. Also, this is training, not a real fight. Go!"

Looking up, Tony saw Stone looking through the crowd. _Oh, no._

Steve had said mixed teams. No way could Stone pick him. Panicking anyway, Tony ducked his head, trying to move back when he bumped into someone.

"Wanna try?" the guy asked him, and Tony turned to face a slightly taller black boy with an expectant face.

"Sure," Tony agreed readily, following him to a free space, when Stone stopped right next to the guy, obviously having found Tony. He grabbed the boy's shoulder and announced loudly, "Careful, Stark might try to cop a feel."

Some boys laughed and Tony could see Stone leering at him, looking like nothing in the world could hurt him. It reminded him every time what that asshole had done to him, and as if Stone knew exactly what he was thinking of, his grin widened.

But the new guy just shook Stone's hand off and dismissed him with an irritated, "Grow up, man."

Tony wanted to laugh at Stone's face. That teen was right. He wouldn’t let Stone ruin this for him. The taller boy was kneeling already, hands propped up.

"Ready?"

"Born this way."

With a final huff, his opponent fell forward. And Tony realized he should not have been worried about the bullies, because apparently Recruit what's his name had that already perfectly covered.

"You alright?"

Tony didn’t know if he was still breathing, but some noise sounding like a dying goat left this throat. Yeah, definitely no risk of awkward boners here. If not even impossible due to him not feeling his legs in that vice grip.

 Turning his head, Tony met the guy's grin.

"Want your legs back?"

The younger boy managed a nod, resulting in the black teen releasing his grip.

"God, I keep forgetting muscles aren’t just for show," Tony admitted, shaking his legs out to get some feelings back into them. The black guy just held his hand out.

"Sam Wilson. The cool one of the Wilsons."

Tony heard a faint "Hey!" from somewhere in the crowd but paid it little mind as he accepted Sam's hand.

"Call me Tony."

"As in Tony Stark? Fuck, man, don't tell me I screwed with a millionaire! You're not gonna press charges, are you?"

Tony smirked, brushing his shoulders, "Billionaire. Well, I won't if – ungh!"

"You're being a dick," Rhodey explained while holding Tony's head in a vice grip, while holding another hand out for Sam to shake.

"Jim Rhodes, nice to meet you. And don't worry about this goofball. He's just trying to be funny."

"Rhodeybear, this is – ahh – not helping!" Tony wheezed, waiting for the grip to loosen.

"Really? You're crap at making friends," Rhodes pointed out, taking pity on him and letting go, just as Steve stepped up to them, all concerned.

"What's going on here? Are you alright, Recruit Stark?"

"Yes, Cap! Captain Rogers. All fine. Just, uh, making friends?"

Tony's shoulders were almost up to his ears, as Steve nodded and motioned for them to get back to training.

"Oh-ho-ho. Now, I see."

Sam was smirking at Rhodey, who was just grinning back.

"I know right? So obvious."

"Like a neon sign," Sam agreed.

Tony eyed them distrustfully, "What's going on?"

"I didn't catch that either," answered a boy who was standing next to Tony with crossed arms, mirroring his position, making Tony jump.

"What – Who are you?"

"Sorry, Peter Quill," the guy introduced himself, sticking his hand out. The day was so bizarre, Tony thought. People getting friendly with him for no reason? Suspicious.

"Tony," he gave in and shook the hand slowly, "are you Rhodey's training partner?"

"Yeah, but we can switch it up if you want," Peter proposed with a shrug, puffing his chest out while ignoring Rhodey's raised eyebrows.

"What, you still feel that? I was going easy on you."

"Easy? I still can't feel my legs. I don't even know how I'm standing right now."

As Rhodey turned to Sam with an eyeroll, Peter turned to Tony, shaking his head and pointing at Rhodey, "He really didn't go easy on me. I was so ready to throw him down, but he just surprised me."

"Uh-huh," Tony commented, regarding the man who tried to look sincere with wide, innocent eyes, finally asking, "Wanna fake it till we make it?"

"God, yes!" Peter moaned, clapping Tony on the shoulder and getting into position.

 

It was exhilarating. Despite their initial agreement, Tony was sweating, his heart beating double-time, mouth dry, but grinning through their little matches. Peter didn't look much different, a laughing mess every time he managed to throw Tony on the ground.

"Man, I feel like Brad Pitt in Fight Club!" Peter cheered, pushing Tony off of him, "But that feels less cool and way more painful than I imagined." Grimacing, he rubbed his back while sitting up just as Steve announced the end of the training.

"I don't know, I think I looked pretty cool," Tony mused, but Peter only shook his head.

"Believe me, I saw it. You looked like a penguin stumbling mid-run and landing on his face while his little wings," Peter lifted his hands and waved them quickly at his side, "they just flapped uselessly, like that."

Tony narrowed his eyes, getting up and grudgingly offering Peter a hand.

"It's not like you looked any better. For a second I thought you had a seizure."

Peter stared at him disappointedly, "Man, next time I'm gonna beat you so bad."

Snorting, Tony just opened his mouth for a reply, when he saw Bucky enter the training hall. The man looked the worse for wear like always, but there was something haunting about his face, the way his eyes focused on a point somewhere far away while talking with Steve. The blonde seemed hesitant in turning away. As the group split up, Peter waving as he moved away, Tony's team followed Bucky to the shooting range.

"You good?" Rhodey asked who fell back to join Tony in the march. The younger boy nodded, but his eyes kept jumping to Bucky, whose hair covered his face and didn't allow him to read his mood. Was he mad at Tony? Was it his lack in experience? Was he going to drop him?

Tony didn't want to think about it. It made something dark and ugly roll in his stomach, like the moment on the top of a rollercoaster just before the ride descended down. Tony didn't want to be dropped.

Instead, he focused on the M16 in his hands. He ignored the little shake in his fingers, the little off-centre shot and he ignored that Bucky was also ignoring him.

The training was just over when he recognized the boy packing up next to him was Clint. "All recruits will pass Ross' office in about five minutes. Ready?"

Tony nodded, somehow not comfortable with talking, and felt for the little remote in the pocket of his pants. He must not have been very convincing, because Clint wavered, watching him. Everyone was packing, ready to get back, clean their rifles and get dinner. Tony looked on helplessly as time rushed past.

"Is it green?" he asked wistfully, not taking his eyes off of the recruits starting to head back.

Clint was quiet, scrutinizing Tony with serious eyes. Then he started to shake his head, slowly, almost threateningly. Tony felt this was more than just the answer to his question.

He saw Rhodey coming up to them, his face full of concern, looking at Clint as if seeing a brewing storm in a cloudy sky, just as Clint turned away.

"You can still go back, Tony," Rhodey reminded him, "I don't trust him. Just drop it."

That proposal jerked Tony out of his stupor. "No. Stone is not getting away with it."

Then he pushed the button on the control.

Although Tony knew not to expect anything, it was very anticlimactic. Rhodey put a firm arm around Tony and pulled him along. As they got closer to the office buildings, a commotion started and Tony heard voices. A small group had stopped in front of Drill Sergeant Ross' office, where the man's voice was audible already before he stepped out of the building himself, holding a bag in his hand and screaming bloody murder.

Tony had to admit, he would have loved to make it public, be he didn't think the sergeant would actually carry the bag outside for everyone to see. For a second, he felt bad for Stone.

Slowly getting closer, he and Rhodey could hear the buzz in the air, carrying over from the bag.

_Wait._

He knew that bag.

Stone was already standing in the group around sergeant Ross, looking curiously at the bag and then whispering to his friends who chuckled silently, while Ross gestured violently.

Tony froze with trepidation as he saw the scene play out. It wasn't Stone's bag. And as the sergeant opened Tony's bag and threw it into the ground, a violently shaking pink vibrator fell out.

The whole camp was quiet for a moment, until Sergeant Ross screamed, "Stark!!" – and suddenly thunderous laughter filled the air. Rhodey growled something ugly about "Barton, that traitorous asshole", worried eyes jumping to his friend, but Tony only saw the sad pink vibrator that Stone pointed at while laughing, eyes locked on Tony.

Oh well. It would have been too good to be true.

 

In truth, _this_ was what Tony was familiar with.

"Hey, that's mine!" Tony shouted at Sergeant Ross as he joined the man in front of his office.

"Stark, you admit it's yours?" Ross looked scandalized, but also a little bit speechless. _Take that, you homophobe._

"What do you think? That someone put it in my bag to prank me?" Tony asked with raised eyebrows. "Any reason you just pulled that out of my bag? I don't share my toys, so if you want one, you gotta buy one."

The sergeant sputtered as some onlookers giggled and Ross pointed at the vibrator as if that pink device itself was an argument. "What the hell do you imply? It was vibrating, really loudly!"

"You also collected our phones. Do you throw them out if they ring?"

"That's not the same!" the sergeant shouted, face red.

"Well how did you know it wasn't a phone then?" Tony asked, crossing his arms. He heard Rhodey snort next to him and some other guys murmuring in agreement. The sergeant fell silent, realizing his mistake.

"Go!" he finally settled on screaming, "Everyone, go! Eat your dinner!"

Rhodey wanted to drag the younger boy away, but Tony had other plans. "I need to check something first."

 

At the lab, Tony had to knock a few times until Dr. Banner came up to open the door for him.

"You're early," the scientist observed, making Tony shrug. "I couldn't wait to see my favourite science buddy."

Smiling softly, Dr. Banner opened the chrome door to their joint office. "Well, I'm always happy to work with you."

"Actually, I need to check something on the computer real quick," the boy admitted, grinning apologetically as the doctor huffed. "Go ahead, I don't mind."

 

It was all gone. Every page history, every fake profile, all blog and forum posts and all conversation trails he had created and strewn across the internet that implied that Tiberius Stone, son of the CEO of Viastone, was a closet queen – they all were no more, as if they had never existed in the first place. Tony had expected that after that vibrator fiasco.

Turning around, he saw Natasha leaning against the desk behind him. He hadn’t heard her come in, but it started to make sense.

"I think I need to talk to that director of yours."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky had missed all the commotion that the recruits were talking about during their dinner. But he heard enough to know it involved Tony getting into trouble.

Before, he would have believed the story of the Stark kid’s need to be the centre of attention.

Looking around, he saw that Steve was still nowhere to be found, which was unusual for his friend who always made sure to eat with Bucky. Feeling uneasy, he finished his meal fast before leaving the canteen. It was still light outside, twilight still hours away. Having decided, Bucky made his way to the arsenal, looking forward to a round of mindless shooting. His plans were stopped short when he saw a familiar face.

"Sergeant Barnes," Agent Coulson greeted him, leaning against the door as if waiting for Bucky’s arrival.

"Did Fury whistle you back?" Bucky asked in lieu of a greeting. Coulson only smiled indulgently, and Bucky relaxed. That’s why Coulson was his favourite. It didn’t mean he liked the guy; he just picked the smaller evil. Romanoff might have acted like nothing bothered her, but Coulson was actually a relaxed, laid back guy. He played by the rules but didn’t try to enforce everyone do the same. Live and let live.

"What do you want?" Bucky settled on, hoping to get to the point faster.

"Steve says you have been more out of it lately."

Pushing himself off the door, he still didn’t step away from it. "He’s worried, but I think it’s good that you’re more... responsive, one might say. Don’t understand me wrong, I don’t find your agitation amusing, but...it’s emotion."

With a wry smile, Colson took the dark sunglasses off, eyes focused on the people around him. Bucky followed instinctively, watching a group of recruits laughing mid-run on the way to their dorm, followed by a drill sergeant spurring them on, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"It’s being alive, don’t you think?"

And there was the reason he didn’t like him.

"Is that a riddle? Is the answer something like, ‘the truth has been inside me all along‘?"

Colson grinned, "I’ve always liked your humour."

"If that’s all," Bucky tried to get him to move, to get on with his day and let Bucky shoot something.

But Coulson didn’t budge.

"You should go back to your quarters, Sergeant. The young recruits are antsy tonight." It was a weird thing to say, but Bucky knew better than to ignore a warning from Coulson.

 

 

It was getting dark as he returned to his quarters, but Bucky had good eyes, so he recognized Stone and his gang stalking up to his apartment with no difficulty.

He couldn’t help his instincts flaring, telling his body to crouch low and stick to the shadows. No fast movement, only shallow breaths, eyes closed if they look your way, so that no light reflects. He missed the weight of a gun in his hand.

Trying to control the predator inside him, he watched the group of kids behind their backs, followed them off the road to the back of his place, only to pass his apartment and stop at the open bathroom window at the neighbouring apartment. The boys around Stone were nervous, hands and legs twitching, looking around frequently.

"Hey!" the Stone kid hissed angrily, "are you a fucking pussy or what? You just need to hold him."

One guy pushed Stone, snarling, "You think he won’t snitch on us after that? Fuck, I think I’m out."

"Yeah?" Stone leered, not even slightly impressed, "You ready to pay me back? Want to tell that to my father?"

The other ten murmured something indecipherable, but backed down, looking away.

Bucky decided to reveal himself just as Stone took a step over the windowsill.

"What kinda party is this?" he drawled, making the boys screech and jump, already turning tail to their barracks. Stone wanted to follow the same instinct but fell over himself when his leg got caught and tumbled to the ground at Bucky’s feet. That was when a pink object fell out of the recruit’s jacket.

Stone looked horrified, eyes jumping between the item and the sergeant’s face.

"Um, that’s – that’s mine."

Bucky didn’t move. He felt anger rising inside of him, a familiar feeling but still foreign, because this was not the monster telling him to be angry. This was all him. And he was _pissed_.

"You mean you didn’t want to play a prank with it?" he questioned innocently, leaning down gingerly and picking up the vibrator while Stone shook his head desperately.

Bucky nodded, eyes moving between the item and Stone.

"Then you won’t mind proving me it’s yours, right?"

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Director Fury’s office was on the third level of the main office building. They passed Ms. Potts on the way up, looking concerned after them, but Tony tried to focus on Natasha’s straight shoulders instead.

The room was dark, lined up with rows of file cabinets, bare except for the necessities and some military decor.

"Mr. Stark," a bald black man with an eye patch greeted him, standing in front of the darkening window front, arms held together on his back. He had the authority of a person in power, similar to Howard, demanding respect despite his simple military dress code. Which made Tony want to poke him with a stick.

"I was wondering when I would meet you. Your father hasn’t been wrong, you _do_ have a penchant for getting into trouble, don’t you?"

"I see it more as a symbiotic relationship with equally divided responsibilities," Tony replied drily, not hesitating to wander through the office as soon as Natasha closed the door behind her, leaving them alone.

The director snorted, "Yeah, he warned me about your mouth, too."

Tony stopped in front of the wall decorated with medals and certificates, whistling appreciatively.

"I don’t think a man who has the Dan 3 black belt in Krav Maga has to be worried about my mouth."

"I’m not," Fury supplied instantly, turning around and watching Tony with a focused eye, "I’m not worried about you at all, Mr. Stark. Out in the world you may be a challenge. But this here? This is my playground and I set the rules."

Was he really a challenge, though? Tony thought of Natasha, sweet talking him with appreciation and admiration. This was the man who had told her to sell the deal.

And Tony was a nobody outside in the world, just finishing his degree, not even of full age yet, and without any meaning to SI. He would become a somebody, though, soon.

Thinking of Fury’s words, Tony started to move again, further into the office, getting closer to the large, wooden desk with the high black leather seat behind. There was a white folder lying on the table.

"I tried to be kind to you Mr. Stark. I gave you a really nice apartment, for army standards, I allowed your little smuggle ring, where your driver sneaked you food – Happy, wasn’t it? Yeah. I thought I was being nice."

"You forced me to sign an NDA about Stone. If you’re so well informed, you know what he did."

"I said I was nice, not an idiot."

Tony turned to look at him, but from this angle the now setting sun disguised his features.

"Viastone has been a very loyal and a very generous supporter of SHIELD. Tell me, Mr. Stark. You’re a genius, after all. Would I punish the company heir because of some quarrel with a rival?"

Tony smiled lazily but was secretly fuming. The man was _mocking_ him.

"I’d say you backing up Viastone was already a stupid decision. Have you seen their latest junk? But some people would do a lot of humiliating things for money and power. Like, I don’t know, let’s say blackmailing. A minor, for example. Who, coincidentally, is the heir of a fortune top 10 company. If you want my genius opinion, I think that was pretty stupid."

He heard the director snort and the man finally stepped away from the window, showing Tony a smirk.

"Thank you for that advice," he drawled while walking up to Tony who had stopped behind the leather chair, leaning against the soft backrest. He looked older from up close, with unforgiving wrinkles around his eyes.

"But money is money. And as a military organization that doesn’t shit money, I take what I can get. Now, I won’t allow you to drag Recruit Stone through the mud. And I want my camp back in order. Things that I can’t seem to achieve without your contribution. A dilemma, if you will."

Tony stepped away from the chair, but Fury only turned the squeaky leather seat around, offering Tony to sit.

"But there is something that might secure your cooperation."

Tony didn’t want to admit it, but he was too curious now, reluctantly taking the giant chair and opening the folder.

"The prosthetic arm," Director Fury announced, as if Tony didn’t recognize the metal beauty right away, "You were right, it’s in our possession. But due to its efficiency focused engineering, it would be impossible to equip without constant pain for the host. The project is yours."

Tony barely kept his fingers from caressing the printed paper, turning distrustful eyes to the director.

"I feel like I’m repeating myself, but where is the catch?"

Instead of throwing another NDA on the table, Fury replied, "Nothing. Same rules as before, but this time you stick to them. Leave Stone alone and stay out of trouble."

"And if I refuse?"

It was out of question. Tony was already looking forward to touch that metal piece of perfection and was making plans how to reverse-engineer it.

"If not, I’ll gladly escort you back to the barracks, where a cold bunk bed next to Stone is waiting. And no Happy time anymore."

The man grinned as if amused by his word game.

"Okay, fine. Sold. You had me at the project is yours." Tony sighed. Fury nodded satisfied.

"The good old carrot or stick approach. Always works like a charm."

Tony eyed him, peeved to have been played, but at the same time seeing where the man came from.

"Oh, and congratulations on surviving your first full month in basic training. Two more to go."

 _Great_. It seemed like he couldn’t hurt Stone – not unless Viastone became worthless. _Now that’s a future goal._

Was Tony that resentful? Getting up and leaving the office with a last glare at Fury’s optimistic wave, Tony decided he just might.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky was whistling a happy tune to himself as he strolled around the back to the front of his apartment when he saw Recruit Rhodes sitting in front of his door.

"Barnes," he called out, as he saw Bucky, and the disrespect in his voice was enough to make Bucky realize that this young man was not waiting for Tony.

"You should be in your dorm," he dismissed the boy while fumbling with his key to open the door. But Rhodes did not bulge, quite the opposite.

"We need to talk. In your interest, preferably inside."

With an exasperated sigh, Bucky kicked the door open and gestured for the boy to enter, following closely behind. "Unless you want a punishment, you should make it short."

Bucky went to the kitchen sink, starting to clean the blood off of his hands. The plastic limb was surprisingly useful when pressing a wiggling body down, he mused, but there was nothing better than a good right hook. He had to keep himself from whistling again as he watched the red tinged water vanish in the drain.

"Really? You want to talk to me about punishment?" Rhodes asked irritated, standing in the middle of the kitchen and watching Bucky with a furious expression.

Bucky should have known.

"He told you?"

"Tony? No. You really don't know him if you think that." As he stepped closer, Bucky realized that the boy was the same height as him and not that much younger. Bucky was 22 when he finished his sniper training and was sent on his first missions. That was three years ago.

"If you prey on underage recruits, you should at least have the decency not to leave visible marks behind."

Bucky clenched his teeth, nodding slowly. The bite mark. "You're right. I shouldn't."

"Leave marks? Or prey on minors? Which one is it you regret?"

He dried his hand, staying clear of his busted knuckles, before turning around.

Staring at the young recruit, Bucky pressed out, "Both."

"I should report you!" Rhodes suddenly shouted, fuming, his finger in Bucky’s face, "He was already being bullied by Stone, and you chose that moment to fuck with him some more!"

Seething, Rhodes walked the short floor space up and down. "I'm guilty, too. I knew they were picking on him, but I ignored it. I mean, I thought they were just pranking him! Nothing serious!" He was lifting his hands animatedly, until they finally sank to his sides, motionless, eyes focusing on a far away point, looking thunderous.

"And then they almost drown him in the toilet. He had already stopped moving, but they still held him there, _laughing_ about it. Who the hell can laugh about that?"

Rhodes breathed heavily, trying to get some control back, finally sitting down on the chair. Bucky didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known about the details, hadn’t really bothered. But knowing now made him so much more satisfied with how he’d dealt with Stone in the back.

"He said I remind him of the cartoons he saw on TV when growing up. He thinks of me as the _hero_. But I _did_ grow up with Tony Stark on TV. And for me, he wasn’t worth the air he was breathing. Just a super rich brat who looks down on everyone, always making fun of his scandals, taking nothing seriously. You remember when he was outed by some guy from school?"

Bucky tried to remember, thinking he saw that on the news some time in the past. It must have been before his first mission. He thought he remembered a snotty brat spouting something too sexual for his age. It was so bizarre, a little kid acting as if it was all his idea. Even harder to understand now that he knew that Tony was not the sexual deviant he claimed to be.

And then, Bucky suddenly realized: It was the same act Tony had pulled on him. Getting control back in a situation where he felt powerless, by doing what everyone expected him to do. Which made it his choice and not something that was being done to him.

The flight forward.

Oh god, Tony had offered him a blow job because he thought that was all Bucky saw in him.

He had tried to get him to _back off,_ in a backwards way. But Bucky had _let_ him.

"Man, there were so many stories about him afterwards. So many girls and guys stepping forward with stories about Starks sex life, his money, everything. And then he comes here, looking exactly like on TV, and he gets roughed up a bit and for a moment I thought… that serves him right."

Stories. _Rumours_. Bucky had relied on rumours when he had guided Tony’s hands to his fly, thinking that’s just what the Stark heir _did_.

But they couldn't be true. He wanted to grab Rhodey by his collar and ask him, did you know? That all these stories, that they can't be true?

Rhodes looked ashamed. Which was a joke compared to Bucky who had taken advantage of a minor who had already gotten fucked over by the whole world, regularly, since his school days, apparently. It was fucking uncomfortable facing the truth.

"But you’re there for him now," he explained haltingly, feeling uneasy trying to comfort anyone but Steve. But Rhodes’ eyes jumped back up to him, focusing with intent. He didn’t want comfort from Bucky.

"I am. But what about you?"

This has probably been coming a long way, Bucky thought.

"I will resign."

"Oh no," Rhodey stifled his proposal right away, shaking his head vehemently. "I don’t want to know why you did it, that’s something you need to work out on your own. And I’m not in a position to point fingers. But I saw what you did to Stone out there." Rhodes huffed, a wry smile in his face.

"When I saw you with the vibrator, for a second I thought you would really do it."

Bucky grumbled, "T’was just to scare him off."

"And the beating?" Rhodes asked wryly, "that a warning, too?"

"A foretaste, if ya will."

"What if someone finds out?"

An ugly grin spread on Bucky’s face. "Then Stone gets another serving. As a farewell gift."

"You are mental," Rhodey declared with widening eyes, making Bucky snort.

Finally, someone realized.

But Rhodey stood firm. "Look, I don’t know why, but now? You care about him, don’t try to deny it. You care."

Yeah, so much that he'd actually wanted to punish the boy in Ross' office for making him care. God, how fucked up could he get?

"And you might think beating Stone up is a nice gesture, but it doesn’t help Tony at all. Guess who Stone will try to blame for this."

Bucky clenched his teeth, hissing, "He can try."

"Man, chill," Rhodes tried to ease the tension, raising his hands defensively, "I mean Tony will still feel like shit about everything. So, if you wanna help him, do something for him. Stop ignoring him."

Bucky let his face turn neutral.

"I shouldn’t be near him," he explained slowly, remembering, through a drunken haze, a boy with a pout and glassy eyes, touching his crotch. He had been hurt. Bucky’s words had hurt him. Why had he not paid attention?

"No, you don’t get to do that," Rhode’s harsh voice ripped him back into reality. "You’re right, you never should have touched him. But now? You mean something to him. And cutting him out of your life because you suddenly grew a conscience? No, you don’t get to wash your hands clean off this. Tony will only blame himself. He already thinks everything is his fault!"

"So, what do you expect me to do?! Keep on screwing with him? As if that’s gonna make it better!” Bucky finally exploded, raising his arm, the prosthetic jerking at his side.

"No, that won't make it better. As long as you understand that, you're on the right path, I'd say."

Rhodes got up, moving to the door, but stopping short in the doorway to the hallway.

"Oh, and if you hurt him again... If I see you letting your anger out on him or you're just playing him… I'm telling Rogers."

For a moment, Bucky was fucking terified of Recruit Rhodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and thank you for your kind feedback!  
> I am always exstatic to read your thoughts, it's my fuel to keep writing.  
> Today it's an extra long chapter, but I'm not sure if I will be able to post next week due to an important event I need to prepare for.  
> I will try to answer all comments and give you some insights into where this story is heading.  
> Let me know what you think :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while. I'm sorry for letting you wait, life happened and I couldn't get back to writing anything for a long time.  
> You can't believe how happy it makes me to be able to spend hours tiping away at my desk again.
> 
> I hope to post more regularly now, so bear with me please. And thank you for tagging along for the ride. :)

Bright light streamed through the curtains. Tony turned in his white sheets, squinting sleepily out of the window, letting the morning sun wake him slowly. He felt a bone-deep tiredness, thinking back on the previous day.

He remembered the pink vibrator falling to the ground, the following laughter. Sergeant Ross screaming his name, Stone's ugly mug grinning down at him. Fury's belittling speech. His proposal, justice traded in for bait.

For Tony, it should be nothing new, being thrown a bone and told to shut up. _And still_ , his mind whispered, _and still_.

His perfect plan for revenge was thwarted by Fury and his minions. He wasn’t really shocked, was he? Had he expected to be betrayed? He thought it was Clint’s look at the end, the warning headshake like he didn’t know what would happen either, but he just knew it wouldn’t be good.

Really, he should have done it on his own. Looking back, Tony felt bad about forcing Rhodey, his best buddy to stand by his side during that stunt.

Now people would make fun of both of them and while Tony could handle it, his friend didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Would people call them names? What had Clint said back then, a couple of fags?

Rhodes would be kind, he wouldn't blame Tony, even though it was all his fault. His friend would put an arm around Tony's shoulder and support him with encouraging words.

But Tony didn’t want support. He wanted his pity party. Because no matter what he did, he always ended up back where he started.

That's what Fury had done. He'd put Tony back in his place. It felt like being stuck in a ditch and every time he tried to climb out, to claw his way back to the surface, he only ended up buried deeper.

Groaning, Tony hid under the sheets, but the light was too bright to pretend the day hasn't started already.

Well, he would have to get up at some point, hold his head high and put a smile on his face. Same procedure as every day.

 

*~*~*

 

"Hello, Miss Potts."

The redhaired woman looked up, her concentrated frown softening into something sweet.

"Hello, Tony. Here for your phone call?"

There was something about her that made Tony like her. Which might be a sign that he had a weakness against redheads. She was still working for Fury.

But where Natasha Romanoff was bloody lips and cool demeanour, Miss Potts had _freckles._ Which danced in her face when she smiled. One just had to smile right back.

"You can read my mind."

She just chuckled and pointed at the hallway behind the door next to her where a phone booth was just in plain view.

"Wow," Tony whistled, leaning on his elbow next to the secretary to peer past the open door, "where did you dig that relic out? The eighteenth century? Does it work with electricity? Or do I need to summon a demon?"

"Tony," Pepper admonished him, but her yes twinkled, "will that be all?"

"Yes, Miss Potts," the boy agreed quickly with a cheeky smile, leaving the woman to her work.

He had thought on his way to the office who to call. He should tell Happy that the phone was compromised, but he missed his mom. Picking up the chunky handset, Tony dialled the number he knew by heart, waiting half a second for the call to connect.

"Hey, Jarvis!"

"Good morning, young Sir. We have eagerly awaited your call."

"Don't tell me you missed me already," Tony joked, fiddling with the cord while smiling to himself.

"Of course," Jarvis replied in a heartbeat, tone warming, "Sir, your father would like to speak to you."

Tony's good mood vanished in an instant as he heard the phone being passed.

"Tony," his father's deep voice called him, "how are you?"

"I'm fine," Tony sighed, not ready for another argument, waiting for Howard to speak whatever was on his mind.

Howard cleared his throat, "I had a call from the director, he said you were adapting well to camp life. That you even offered to support their engineering team on a project."

Of course, Fury would cover his tracks. Tony stayed quiet.

"Is – is that true?" Howard suddenly asked haltingly, then rushing, "because I know you, Tony, I may not always understand you, but. You hate the military, hated the idea of going to that camp, it's just. I thought…"

"You thought what?" Tony prompted him as Howard trailed off, "That I would come to like it? Yeah, Howard, it's awesome. I'm so happy you got rid of me the moment I actually needed someone to have my back. Thanks a lot."

"You don't speak to me like that. I was actually worried about you!" Howard sounded upset, but Tony was safe from his lectures here. What would he do? Send him to a military camp?

"Must be a new sensation, huh? Don't get used to it. I'll handle it."

"Handle what?"

"Forget it. Where's mom?"

"Tony, we are not-"

Tony hung up the phone, breathing heavily. He was acting childish, but he hadn't planned to spill that much, hadn't planned to talk to Howard at all. But it didn't matter since Howard would soon forget about Tony's petty antics. He wouldn't come, would he?

After a sigh and a heavy head shake it was back to business as usual.

Potts watched him as he came back. "You should hurry up or you're missing breakfast."

"I'm not feeling hungry, really," Tony admitted with a shrug which Potts met with a stern look.

"It's not a good habit to skip meals, Tony. You need the energy for your body to regenerate." She looked left and right, before opening a drawer and handing him an energy bar. "This stays between us, understood?"

"Thank you, Miss Potts."

"You're welcome, Tony."

Tony grinned at her wink and grabbed the bar, hiding it in his pockets before running off.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky sat alone during breakfast until Steve came to join him, sitting down with an apologetic smile.

"Where have you been?" Bucky asked, watching Steve curiously who kept his eyes on the scrambled eggs.

"I, uh, just saw Drill Sergeant Ross off."

Bucky’s raised eyebrows demanded an explanation and Steve squirmed on his seat for a bit before giving in.

"I don't know if you've heard. Ross tried to humiliate Tony in front of the camp. I saw it, talked to Fury. Turns out Ross is in need of an intensive refresher training about misconduct. Which should keep him busy for a few months."

Bucky stared at Steven's smug, if slightly red face, and couldn't help but be impressed. His friend had balls to go after Ross, him being a drill sergeant in this camp for well over ten years, but just before he could compliment his quick wit, he saw Steve’s proud grin turn sheepish.

"So, guess who’s taking over the recruits’ drills?"

"Stevie no."

"Yes Bucky."

Heaving a deep and long sigh that turned halfway into a moan, Bucky rested his head on his hand. He should have seen this coming.

"And what happened to you?" Steve continued their conversation, nodding at Bucky’s glove covered hand.

"I fell. On a stone." Close enough, Bucky decided and shrugged as if saying, _what can you do?_

"You should go to the infirmary," Steve suggested with worrying eyes, but Bucky only nodded with a lazy smirk.

"That’s exactly what I was planning to do."

On his way out he looked around, but only found Recruit Rhodes, catching his eyes for a second, but turning away as fast as he could without seeming suspicious.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tony chewed on the energy bar under a tree around the training area, where he had a perfect view of the canteen where recruits and militaries were streaming out. He watched a group of boys step out, Clint among them, joking and laughing together until Clint waved them off, moving straight towards Tony.

"You wanna talk to me, I guess," Clint said as a greeting while he walked past the younger boy, prompting Tony to follow him.

"You guessed right," Tony agreed good-naturedly, jogging to keep up. They stopped at the fence, far away from the barracks.

"I'll make it short," Clint announced, turning to him, "I won't tell you shit."

Tony stared at him wide-eyed, but nodding, composing himself fast. "Fine, I just want you to listen."

Clint sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, looking at the boy expectedly.

"It's Fury, right? Who got you into this place. He got you off the street, sealed your records and in turn, you spy for him. How close am I?"

Clint's posture didn't change, but his face grew lax. He definitely hadn't been expecting that talk.

"Did he ask you to spy on me specifically? You didn't want to, which is why you were being a dick at first. But I guess my bait was too good to ignore."

The good old carrot or stick approach, he had called it. But being played the same way by Fury, Tony realized how shitty it actually felt to be tricked into doing someone a favour.

Clint huffed, shaking his head disbelievingly as Tony scratched his chin.

"He told me to not to underestimate you, but I guess I was fooled by what people say."

"Fury?"

"Coulson," Clint corrected with a smirk, "you should meet him."

"How can I find him?" Tony asked curiously, but Clint snorted. "You don't. He finds you."

As he turned around to leave, he wavered for a moment, eyeing Tony calculatingly.

"And it was purple, alright? The suit."

Clint left, smiling to himself, before it finally sunk in and Tony couldn't suppress a short laugh.

 

*~*~*

 

Rhodey had managed to hunt Tony down by the time it was lunch break. With his heavy arm draped as a comforting weight around Tony's shoulders, he pulled the younger boy along to the canteen. And somehow this was enough for Tony to face the consequences from the pink fiasco. He was ready for the jeers and hollers. He wasn't ready though for the calm chatter that greeted him, as if nothing had happened. Some guys turned around and snickered a bit, but otherwise the canteen kept buzzing with distracted voices. During lunch, suddenly someone sat down next to them.

"Hey Tony, everyone's talking about dildogate this morning! Was it really your idea?"

Tony looked up distrustfully to find Peter Quill sitting next to them, looking excitedly while Sam Wilson just chewed his scrambled eggs as if he had always been sitting there. Before Tony could open his mouth, Rhodey was growling. Sam lifted his fork and pointed it at Rhodey.

"Calm down, Cujo. He just wants to congratulate him on the plan."

"You know?" Rhodey asked bewildered, making Peter roll his eyes. "Hello? They suspended Ross yesterday evening, he left the camp this morning!"

As Peter's excited news was met with silence, he huffed and explained, "He was known to be a bigot, kept making fun of some of our recruits. It was time someone exposed him as the intolerant asshole he was."

Rhodey looked at Tony like he hadn't known that either, making Tony sigh.

"That's awesome. But that wasn't the plan."

Puzzled, Peter snapped his mouth shut just as Sam stopped chewing, asking, "Well then, what was the plan?"

Tony took a deep breath, ready to spew some made up crap when Rhodey just bulldozed ahead, "a smear campaign against Stone."

Tony turned to him with an indignant face, but his friend just shrugged. "He’s a bully, the worst kind. Would’ve deserved it."

"It’s over now," Tony finished the conversation, but Sam was not ready to let it rest. "What do you mean, it’s over? You can’t let him get away just like this."

"I got a warning from the director personally," Tony admitted. Fury watched him very closely, he knew now. No way was he going to risk this again. "It’s over. They won."

"Like hell!" Peter shouted outraged, his face serious, "he won’t get through with this! Point me his way!"

Tony looked at the guy who had been as easily defeated as him during training, who was barely taller than him but was still willing to throw some punches for Tony simply because of his word. He couldn’t help the warm laughter bubbling up from his chest.

"Look, that’s... amazing, really. That you would be willing to help. But it’s not going to change anything. Stone will still try to let it out on me."

"What you need is protection," Sam suddenly concluded, receiving a nod from Rhodey. "What do you have in mind?"

"You know how you survive in prison? You beat the toughest guy."

Tony almost fell off his chair. "Do I _look_ like I could beat the toughest guy?"

"Easy," his dear Rhodey calmed him down, turning back to Sam, "I hope that wasn’t your selling point."

Sam rolled his eyes, but got back to the topic right away, "Well, if you can’t beat the toughest guy, you have to get him on your side."

"And who would that be?" Tony asked, now a bit curious, and all four boys slowly turned around for a sweeping glance.

"The strongest guy, that’s an easy one. See that huge guy in the front row near the food line?"

Tony followed Sam’s nod, but it was really not necessary to point him out. That guy – giant, really – easily towered over his fellow recruits and ate like he was starving.

"They call him Thor. His punch feels like a hammer blow."

"That’s not his real name, is it?" Tony asked, a bit intimidated by the guy’s thunderous laugh that carried over to their table.

"That guy? Pfff," snorted Peter suddenly and waved with his hand, "Thor is like a big St. Bernard. His family is from a little village in Northern Europe, I’m not even sure he knew what electricity was before he came here. He wouldn’t even realize you needed help, he’d just join your little play fight. Believe me, what you need is not that blonde brute. You need someone who is tough, who would defend you to death!"

"And who is that? You?" Sam asked sarcastically, but Peter only leaned back, "Wilson."

Sam looked at him blankly until he finally seemed to understand. "Wade? Have you lost your mind? That guy will kill you in your sleep just for suggesting it!"

"He’s not craz –"

"Yes, he –"

"No, he’s not cra –"

"Yes he is!"

"Okay, he’s not _that_ crazy!"

Breathing heavily, Peter turned back to Rhodey and Tony, "He has a few screws loose, but that’s good! For us! Because he will ruin any asshole who's dumb enough to mess with him!"

"Which is why we should keep our distance from him," Sam explained with a sigh, slow as if talking to a child.

"Well, you can help to recruit Thor if you want. My bet is on Wade."

Sam looked pissed, but leaned closer over the table, pushing his empty plate to the side. "If you want to get Thor, you first need to get his brother on your side. Peter’s right on this one, Thor is the muscle in the duo, but his brother is the brain. You see that tall, lanky guy over there?"

"Let me guess," Tony grinned excitedly," his brother’s name is Balder?"

"What? No, it’s Loki."

Tony’s face fell. "But that doesn’t make any sense."

Rhodey petted Tony’s head and moved on to question, "So, how can we get Loki on our side?"

"That’s the challenge," Sam admitted grudgingly. "That guy is a pretty manipulative snake from what I’ve heard. You should ask that archer of yours, he has a tooth to pick with Loki."

Tony’s eyes traced the huge ‘Thor’ who was leaving the canteen with heavy steps, followed closely by an almost as tall ‘Loki’.

 

*~*~*

 

 "You’re wearing your worry face, Tones," Rhodey commented quietly, walking next to his friend out of the canteen, "You ever gonna tell me what happened?"

Watching his new-found friends stopping by a few fellow recruits, Tony furrowed his brows, thinking hard of the what ifs. Getting other people involved meant giving up control. And what would be the outfall? He could handle another slap on his wrist, but what about Rhodey? What about Sam or Peter?

"It wasn’t Clint’s fault, you know?" he started, sitting down on a wooden bench near the training field. Rhodey joined him, stretching his back before settling.

"I guessed as much when I heard about Ross. But that bird guy spilled the beans to _someone_ , so he’s at least partially responsible."

"Yeah, Director Fury asked him to keep track of me. Clint had no choice but to report what I was up to. But I think Ross was the one to switch the vibrator from Ross’ bag into mine. It’s one way to protect Stone and at the same time to humiliate me."

"But the director still has it out for you? What an asshole."

Tony shrugged. "It’s more about protecting the son of a wealthy sponsor than punishing the delinquent kid that will leave after two more months. Fury wants me to forget what happened and keep on the down low."

"So, what are you saying?"  Rhodey asked with a dubious frown after a short silence, "Are you giving up?"

"It’s not about that!" Tony objected, hugging himself even though it was warm outside. "I’ve tried to get some payback, but I can’t. I failed, so what? It’s fine. I can handle it."

"It’s not fine!" Rhodey suddenly exploded, getting up and walking a few steps before turning back. "You don’t have to stem this all by yourself. You've got friends! Let’s do this together this time! We will stand up to Stone and his lackeys!"

"And if we fail again?" Tony asked, getting up too, but still having to look up to his friend.

"What if you get kicked out of the camp? To join the army is your dream! For me it will soon be over anyway. It’s not worth it."

"Tones – "

"Look, it sounds like fun. But maybe we shouldn’t risk it?"

Rhodey looked unhappy and Tony felt even worse for disappointing him.

But this was not a fucking movie. Tony never got a happy end.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Strange read Stone’s medical record like a boring news article.

"… Accompanied by major bruises and swelling in his arms, legs and chest area which would indicate repeated impact with a blunt object. How Mr. Stone wants to have managed this by, I quote, ‘falling down the stairs’ will forever remain a mystery." Slamming the file shut with little flourish, the doctor turned to Bucky who just nodded emphatically.

"Must have been a hard fall."

He didn’t think for a second that Strange hadn’t figured it out, but as long as Stone kept his mouth shut, he was safe. Strange didn’t answer to Fury, didn’t answer to anyone really. Sometimes Bucky envied him.

Strange smirked as if he knew what Bucky was thinking, which was impossible, while he fiddled with a little green penchant around his neck.

"You may act as if you don't care all you like, Sergeant. But I don't see a good ending for you in the future if you keep being so reckless."

"And that's where you're wrong," Bucky explained, already used to Strange's weird prophesies, "because I truly don't care."

"Then forget about the boy."

Bucky stiffened under Strange's watchful eyes. For a crazy second he thought the doctor meant Tony, but that was ridiculous.

Turning to the side, he eyed the roughed-up visage of Tiberius Stone through the glass wall.

"There's nothing to forget," Bucky explained with innocent eyes, but a satisfied grin playing around his lips, "because nothing happened."

Before the doc could answer, the door to the doctor's office flew open.

"Dr. Strange," Romanoff called out and let her eyes glide to Bucky, "Sergeant."

"Ms. Romanoff," Strange greeted her as the redhead stood waiting at the door. Bucky took it as his cue to leave and pushed his way past the woman, feeling her cold gaze on him, but refusing to acknowledge her.

 

*~*~*

 

Heading back to his place, he slowed down before reaching his door. There was movement in Tony’s window.

A part of him didn’t want to see the boy, dreading the shame he would feel when he saw him. There he was, a professional sniper, scared of talking to a kid.

But Strange's words had scared him a little. Not that Bucky thought he knew, but what if someone caught on? Maybe it was for the best to leave it, Bucky thought, ducking his head and closing the door to his apartment quietly.

Hours passed where Bucky couldn't even tell what he was doing, but the apartment on the other side of his wall remained silent all day. In the late afternoon Bucky heard the door slam shut and without a thought moved to the kitchen window, eyeing the familiar figure of the boy heading off into the camp.

Then he wondered what the fuck he was staring at and turned away.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"I don't know how you managed to get the director's approval, but here you go."

Tony made grabby hands at the file Dr. Banner was handing over.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" the boy asked absentmindedly, browsing through the pages of the metal arm, scanning the images.

"Oh, I still remember my first secret military project," the scientist agreed wistfully, leaning against the table and staring off into the distance.

"What was it about?" Tony asked curiously, but Dr. Banner only shook his head, smiling.

"Nice try. Well, if you're ready for the real deal, follow me."

Tony hurried eagerly after the doctor as he led them back into the hall and then down a flight of stairs, ending up in front of a metal door at the end of a colourless corridor.

With a swipe of his card the door opened, and Dr. Banner stepped aside to show Tony a room with walls covered with metal plating. In the middle, a large, dark glass chamber stared back at them ominously. Tony squinted his eyes, thinking he could see some outline as suddenly the huge glass box lit up. Startled, the boy looked at Dr. Banner who had found the light switch. In the cage, an old brown crate rested on a pedestal.

"It might not look like much, but what we're dealing with here is a weapon beyond our scientific understanding. I will open the container once you read the file, because it's important that you are prepared, okay?"

Tony nodded, eyes glued to the wooden crate, unaware of the worried gaze Dr. Banner aimed at him before he left the room. This is what he traded his desire for revenge in for.

He sat down on the floor, spreading the file and all its content out in front of him, lighted by the neon light above the glass cage.

He sure hoped this was worth it.

 

*~*~*

 

The sun just started to hide behind the trees in the far west as Tony left the lab and turned to the apartment quarters, when he heard familiar voices calling out to him.

"Hey, Tones!"

It came from behind the buildings, he realized as he ducked between two white houses and squinted in the bushes. "Rhodey?"

A hand shot out of a scrub, startling the boy, and started to beck him closer.

Intrigued, Tony followed the hand and as soon as he was close enough, an arm grabbed him, pulling him into the thicket.

"What the hell," Tony hissed, spitting a little twig out of his mouth, as three sets of eyes smirked at him.

"Come on loser," cajoled Peter, "we're going swimming!"

 

*~*~*

 

With excited chatter, Rhodey, Sam, Peter and Tony sneaked through the darkening forest, stumbling to a halt as they reached a small clearing.

"Well, I don't know what the hell is wrong with Barton's eyes, but that's not a lake," Rhodey decided, scratching his shaved head.

"That's a pond," Sam stated the obvious, cocking his head, "yeah, no, definitely a pond. Quill, what did Barton say it was?"

"Uh, you know," Peter tried to explain casually, pulling his hands behind his head, "it's not like I remember every word he said, I mean he said there was – water, you know."

Sam groaned heavily, but Tony couldn't supress a cackle. Rhodey sighed. "Let me guess. You stopped listening the second he said "pond" and thought, awesome! Let's go swimming!"

Peter pressed his lips together and tried to look affronted.

"You're such a dweeb," Tony laughed at his face, but started taking off his clothes.

"What are you doing, Tones?" Rhodey asked carefully, ignoring Peter's sulky huff.

"I'm going for a swim. That's what we came here for, right?"

"Yeah!" Peter agreed hastily and started to strip as well. Sam and Rhodey watched them dubiously.

"Oh, what the hell," Rhodeybear finally relented and started to take his clothes off, followed by Sam who continued grumbling.

Tony jumped in first and regretted it instantly, as the cold surrounded him completely. Suddenly he remembered the fear. Water in his eyes and nose and mouth. Unable to breathe. He almost felt a hand on his head and thought he would scream as he suddenly resurfaced, gasping for air. But there was no one holding him down. Peter was swimming next to him and laughing while Sam swore at how frigging cold the water was.

"You alright?" Rhodey asked quietly, and Tony was so happy that he forgot about his sorrows for a moment. They were trying to cheer him up, he was sure of it. Peter tried to shove Sam's head under water, while Sam complained about disgusting seaweed touching him. "I swear Quill, if I catch some weird pond disease, I'm gonna infect you too!"

"Yeah," Tony answered finally with a small smile on his face that Rhodey mirrored.

 

*~*~*

 

They had fooled around for an eternity it felt like, until the nightly cold forced them back into the camp. Waving happily, Tony turned away from his friends, heading for his apartment.

The soft crunch of his army boots on gravel was loud in his ears as the camp returned to silence. Dark houses with dark windows seemed deserted while the roads led into black nothingness. The woods behind the camp, plunged into darkness, stood out like an abyss between earth and the night sky. And what a sky it was.

Tony had to stop and look up, startled to see millions of little lights twinkling down at him. This was so different from what he was used to, from the black roof atop a lit-up city bustling with life. It was absolutely beautiful.

He almost stumbled over someone as he reached his quarters, a huge back lump on the entry step, easily recognizable by his grumbling and the shaggy hair.

"Bucky?"

"You’re late."

Tony looked at the ground, silent for once, not ready for a witty lie, and Bucky didn’t press. With a sigh, the man shifted to the side and Tony wondered if he was allowed to sit down next to him or if he should just walk past and hide in his apartment. He wasn’t ready for another setback, another person telling him how little they thought of him. But Bucky sighed again, more aggravated this time, and patted the now empty space next to him.

As they sat in silence, Tony couldn’t help but glance at Bucky now and again. The older man didn’t look at the sky. His eyes were set on a point far away, somewhere in the mountains maybe, maybe lost in the black woods. Tony wondered what Bucky saw there.

"I think that’s yours," Bucky suddenly said, and Tony looked down to see the pink vibrator in Bucky’s hand, and flailed.

"What? How did you – that’s not mine!"

Even in the darkness Tony could clearly imagine the raised eyebrows on Bucky’s face. So, Bucky knew the story.

"Okay, fine, I bought it." _But it’s not really mine,_ he wanted to add, but what would that change?

He grabbed the object only to hide it under his wet shirt. How did that thing end up with Bucky, for Christ's sake? Did Drill Sergeant Ross give it to him? Did they share a laugh about the haughty Stark heir?

That’s what he was now. A sex joke.

But he knew this, barely felt anything as he relaxed back into the safety of the Tony Stark everyone knew and loved or hated.

"Guess that story is out then," he replied quietly, more to himself than anyone else, as he leaned against the warm body at his side, pressing up against Bucky. The man next to him didn’t move, so he slipped his hand carefully into Bucky’s lap. As he touched a thigh, Bucky suddenly jerked.

"What," he grunted, grabbing the wandering hand with his own.

Fascinated, Tony watched the big hand close roughly around his tender wrist. "I wanna show you my gratitude, for bringing my toy back."

His voice sounded a bit hoarse, the innuendo not hidden at all. But Bucky shifted, visibly uncomfortable, before pushing Tony’s hand away adamantly .

"Why," the younger man started, hurt at the rejection, but Bucky’s eyes were looking anywhere but at Tony.

"I’m not returning it for – _that_ , Jesus."

"So, you’re done with me?" Tony suddenly blurted. Now his voice was embarrassingly scratchy and god, he hoped he didn’t sound like a whiny brat, but he needed to get Bucky to focus back on him, to tell him he was wrong.

He at least got the man’s attention, as surprisingly alarmed eyes settled back on Tony.

"Tony," he started and halted, taking a deep breath. Tony froze, surprised by the genuine emotion in the sergeant's voice.

" I was. _So_ wrong," Bucky visibly swallowed, his throat working before he licked his chapped lips, "for what I – fuck, what I’ve _done_ to you."

And Tony understood that this was exactly what he had been dreading.

"Oh, is that the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech?" The boy snorted, trying to keep his cool while he felt a burning pressure behind his eyes.

"Don’t give me that shit. It was my idea. I wanted to screw with you. It was just fun to me," he explained, head held up high, but voice shaking more than he wanted it to. "So, what is it? My lack in experience? My age? You didn’t seem to mind before."

Bucky flinched, as if just the idea of screwing with an underage Tony was disgusting, and Tony was done, getting up swiftly.

"Tony, no," Bucky started again, trying to make a move towards the younger man.

"No," Tony protested, shaking his head furiously, backing up, "You think I can’t play these games? I fucking dare you."

"What the hell are you talking about? You’re seventeen! You’re a kid! I was supposed to be the adult!"

 "Oh, so you think you’re better than me? You’re not!"

"You’re right! I’m not!"

Bucky realized he was shouting, and threw a quick look at Steve’s apartment, still lying in darkness.

That's what he was worried about, Tony realized. Of Steve finding out. He was ashamed of him.

"Can we not do this now?" he asked, pleaded really. But the damage was already done as he felt wetness spilling down his cheeks.

"Fuck."

Wiping angrily at his eyes, Tony didn’t dare to look at Bucky, but watched his feet instead, shifting his weight from one to the other, remaining quiet.

With an exasperated sigh, he finally turned to his door and broke the silence. "I'm tired."

And he had gotten the message. Quietly he closed the door behind him, not looking at the Sergeant hovering on the steps.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Bucky stayed still until the boy's apartment turned dark, helplessly flexing his fist and relaxing it. He was supposed to make it better and apologize. Instead he managed to make it all worse. How useless could he be?

He felt numb, walking back to his own empty place, sitting down on his bed. That should be it, he thought, pulling his shirt off and loosening the prosthetic. It was best to end things and leave the boy alone. Tony would get over it.

He kept on telling himself that, lying on this side and staring into nothing and seeing Tony's crying face, heartbreakingly sad and shaking with supressed sobs. Just a touch away but looking so lonely. His hand kept twitching and something in his chest constricted painfully.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"Howard – are you even listening?"

Howard Stark raised his eyes that had unbidden drifted towards the wide window back to his friend and business partner. "Sorry, Obie."

Obadiah's eyebrows were raised as he heaved a sigh. "Let me guess, is your boy causing trouble again?"

Howards fingers that were tapping against the windowsill stopped for a second, only to pick up a faster pace. "I'm not sure," he said honestly, his face growing darker, "actually I'm starting to doubt that camp was a good idea in the first place."

"What, you want to take him back home and coddle him instead? Pat his shoulder for that pornographic video he made?"

Howard hated it when his friend brought that subject up and tried not to flinch.

"Of course not. But I don't see how this is helping in any way."

Aggravated, Howard turned to his wooden desk and sat in the armchair behind it. Obadiah trailed behind him and got comfortable on the chair opposite to him and watched Howard light up a cigarette, then followed his example.

"I've told you about my father," Howard reminisced between puffs of smoke, "when I stepped out of line, I could be sure that a beating waited for me behind the next locked door. And my old man was very creative with his punishments. A belt, a baseball bat, the shower hose."

Obadiah watched him with knowing eyes but waited for his friend to go on.

"I hated him for it. I thought, if one day I have a kid, I will do better than him. Now look where I am. My son hates me as well. And I didn't even have to touch him for that."

Obadiah took a deep pull of his cigarette. "Are you done pitying yourself?"

His eyes gleamed as he smiled. "God, look at yourself. The great Howard Stark, all emotional."

"Shut up," Howard grumbled.

Obadiah laughed, but calmed down soon enough. "No, but on a serious note, Tony is almost eighteen and he's doing whatever he wants. He's acting like that rich kid you never wanted him to be. If you pull him out of that camp, what will that teach him? That he can always get away with it. Let the boy fight for himself for a change, Howard. He may surprise you."

Howard mulled the words over in his head.

"Also, you got more important things on your hand, don't you? Fury is ready for a partnership that could get us billions. _Billions_ , Howard. This is our step into government projects. Just think what this could mean for Stark Industries. Government-funding, access to secret technology, new distribution channels. Weapon production on a global scale!"

"You may be right about Tony," Howard commented while he watched Obie's enthusiastically raised hands drop with a sigh, "but I'm not willing to commit to Fury's cause that easily. Why would he want another partnership if he's already dealing with Viastone? There's more to this and we have to find out what."

"You know what you and Tony have in common?" Obie asked drily, "you both make me crazy. When one golden path opens up in front of you, you always have to stop and look around. Drives me insane."

Howard laughed as they got up and he clapped Obadiah good-naturedly on his shoulder before turning to the door.

"See what you can find out about Fury and that company, Viastone."

 


	8. Chapter 8

Monday came as if nothing had happened. Tony tried to focus on the regularity: he would get up, dress, run, eat, jump, rest. But his routine was already shaken before breakfast.

The new addition was a grumpy and strangely familiar drill sergeant during his morning routine and Tony wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen him himself.

"What you all staring at? Run! Ten rounds! Go!", Bucky had screamed at them and, unlike Ross who had hassled them every minute to run faster, moody old Barnes just sat down and ignored them for the rest of the morning. It was so hilarious Tony almost forgot how angry he was at the man. Almost.

 

*~*~*

In the canteen, Sam and Quill joined them. Neither mentioned any plans on getting revenge on Stone for which Tony was grateful. And Stone himself – was suspiciously absent. Tony was happily surprised by the lack of attention his stunt had brought him and didn't want to question his luck.

The fight training with the other recruits turned out to be Tony's new favourite thing. Without Stone around, no one seemed to pick on him, at least openly. He didn't mind the distrustful glances and the fights against stronger guys who put him flat on his back in two seconds, but they lacked the malice Stone always carried around Tony.

It took him two days to finally figure out why. Rhodey told him a story of an unfortunate accident involving Stone that was so unfortunate it had to be fake, but Platypus wouldn't budge. The look that he gave Tony said to just accept that Karma was a bitch and Stone got what he deserved. And well, Tony couldn't really argue against that.

In this new team dynamic, Tony felt brave enough to get to know the other recruits. He also kept eyeing the giant they called Thor who was impossible to ignore, really. His voice was as loud as he was big, dominating the entire room when he just opened his mouth.

His brother, on the other hand, was something else. Tony didn't think he would have noticed him if he had not been told about him before. Loki seemed to blend in when he wanted to, which was crazy because he was the only one who apparently didn't have to shave his head, his sleek black hair curling in the nape of his neck.

Now that he paid attention, Tony thought Loki stood out like a sore thumb, with his pretty, androgynous face and his height rivalling Thor’s.

The boy knew he was being watched, Tony was sure of it as the raven-haired teen tended to let their eyes meet occasionally and smirk. It made Tony even more curious.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 "You know, you are weirdly okay with this", Steve concluded as they sat together in Steve’s kitchen. The blonde had insisted on cooking them something healthy for a change, whatever that meant. Bucky knew to just accept it and eat what Steve put in from of him.

"With what?" he asked between bites of his vegetable omelet.

"The morning drills? I thought you would put up way more fight."

Bucky watched his best friend as he munched loudly, knowing it would annoy Steve. It worked and the blonde huffed. "Stop being a dork. I'm serious."

Putting down the spoon, Bucky leaned back in his seat, wobbling on the back legs of the chair. "What do you want me to say? Those baby blues of yours just melted my cold black heart."

"You don't actually mind them," Steve realized abruptly and Bucky jerked back into his seat before he could lose his balance. "How did you get that from what I said?"

"Sad, depressing sarcasm is apparently your new way of showing happiness, Buck. So, what's this about? Did those kids grow on you?"

"Gross," Bucky shook with disgust, while Steve watched thoughtfully. "Then, only one maybe?"

The brunet froze, proving his friend's point without uttering a single word. "I knew it," Steve cheered smugly, "It's Tony, isn't it? You're looking out for him!"

"I'm really not," Bucky admitted with a raspy voice and realized he was way more honest than he had planned, and suddenly he felt tears prickling behind his eyes. _What the fuck?_ Steve's smile vanished and he looked alarmed, halfway out of his seat. "Bucky, what's wrong?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully, focusing his eyes on the yellow blob on his plate while blinking rapidly. He had managed to deal with it all week, just kept his mouth shut around Tony and watched the boy pretend everything was fine, pretend Bucky hadn't hurt him badly.

"Did something happen?" Steve asked quietly, and Bucky wondered why he didn't ask Steve for help. He used to tell Steve everything and now there were secrets. Also, he felt like he was at a dead end with Tony – which should be fine, but somehow wasn't.

"I. Uh. I wanted to help him. Just. Be there for him, after the thing with Ross." That much was true. He thought back on the evening the previous week, how he had fought with himself all day until he finally had the guts to go over and knock on the door. How he had sat down on Tony's front steps and waited for hours, playing out the words he would say in his head, but ending up not being able to remember any at all.

"But I just made it worse. And I don't know why it pisses me off so much, but it _does_."

"Oh Buck," Steve huffed, and there was amusement in his voice that caught Bucky offguard. "Do you actually find this funny?" he asked peevishly, happy that his vision had cleared up again.

"No. Well, maybe a bit. Look, I'm just happy – you're trying to make a friend. And you're actually putting effort into it, that's good! Just a month ago you wouldn't even leave your bed."

Bucky stayed silent. Steve was happy for him – but for all the wrong reasons. "That's not really helping me. Just tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Well, you want to be his friend? Then act like one. Apologize."

"Yeah, because that worked so well the first time."

"If you can't come up with words on the go, then write it down."

"Like a cheat sheet?"

"No, god, Buck. Like a letter. I can't believe you make fun of me about Peggy when you can't even make one friend," Steve observed with a mirthful smile, earning a shove from Buck.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

On the high-gloss photo in the secret file the mechanic arm had looked like a modern piece of art, the freshly polished silver gleaming in the light and showing off a beautiful surface with an intricate design. Today, the glass cage had been unlocked when Tony had arrived. Now standing in front of the open crate where an old metal chunk was lying, Tony felt deceived.

"You tricked me," the young engineer told the tarnished sad-looking metal arm, crossing his arms. "I thought you would be special, you know?"

The file had not revealed any secrets, had not even hinted at any special technology hidden within the piece of tech. The engineering was appeared plenty advanced, but all the details seemed innocent enough. Nothing worth being cautious about.

Shaking his head, Tony circled the pedestal, watching the prosthetic judgingly, "I trusted you – I know, stupid, Tony, to trust someone you don't even know. But there was something about you…"

He tried to lift the metal and needed both hands to heave it out of the crest. Pushing the crest off the pedestal, he put the arm back on it, dusting it off with his sleeve.

"Look at you, there's nothing really special about you, is there? You're just a piece of junk, dented and dull just like everyone else."

Despite his words, he kept on rubbing the silver surface until it gleamed again under the fluorescent light of the ceiling lamp.

"So, you two already got acquainted?" a voice suddenly filtered in and Tony jumped to see Dr. Banner standing at the door, smiling.

"This is not what it looks like,",Tony hastened to explain, but Dr. Banner only chuckled, waving him off. "Don't feel bad, I sometimes talk to my research projects as well."

"You do?" Tony asked curiously, to which the scientist nodded.

"Yeah, I sometimes ask them to give me the results I want or scold them if they don't, like misbehaving children."

Tony couldn't suppress a giggle at the mental image of Dr. Banner begging a vial to please behave. The man grinned indulgently before continuing, "I guess sometimes I also use them to get some things off my chest. Like, when I can't tell them to the person they are meant for."

Under Dr. Banner's knowing look, Tony couldn't help but look away.

"And that's absolutely fine," Dr. Banner continued imploringly, gaze not wavering when Tony looked up again. "But if you need someone to actually listen, I'm here," he finished with a friendly face which Tony couldn't help but reciprocate. "Thanks, Dr. Banner."

"Anytime, Tony. Well, I'm done for the day. Don't stay too long, alright?"

Tony nodded quickly and waved the man off, turning back to his project.

Staring at it for a few seconds, Tony turned around to make sure he was really alone before returning his attention.

"Don't think I'm done with you."

 

*~*~*

 

"Stark, go!", Steve shouted as the recruit before Tony had vanished under the barbed wire net low above the dirty wet ground.

It had just rained hours ago during their morning rounds, but Tony didn't even hesitate. He dropped onto his hands and knees before diving under the wire, the mud squelching under his limbs. His muscles burned under the pressure as he crawled forward, just catching sight of the boy ahead as he got up and ran off. A barb got stuck somewhere on Tony's leg and he had to slow down to free it. The wet dirt had found its way into his sleeves, making him shudder. He finally ripped his leg free, not caring for the tear as he continued his crawl. Finally reaching the end, he bit his teeth together as he pushed himself up on his hands, only allowing himself a second to take a breath before he ran towards the horizontal ladder, jumped up and grabbed the first bar.

"Go, Tones!", he heard his Rhodeybear scream from somewhere and how could he disappoint him? Bracing himself, he built momentum before releasing one hand, grasping the next bar. Repeating the process, Tony reached the fourth bar, but his hands hurt so much he was losing his grip. He dropped to the ground like a stone, not able to catch his balance on his legs and landing straight on his butt. 

Swearing at himself, Tony raised his head as he heard squelching steps approach him.

"Not bad, recruit." Steve nodded at him appraisingly before reaching a hand out to the boy, pulling him up. "Two more bars than last time. Keep it up." He clapped Tony onto his shoulders and Tony couldn't cover his pleased smile, cheeks red from the exercise. "Thanks, Cap."

Sam gave him a thumbs up as he headed back to his group. Peter elbowed him with a grin as they both got back in line. This wasn't so bad, Tony thought as he looked up and caught Loki eyeing him, a barely there smile on his lips.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"It's not working", Bucky snapped the second Steve sat down opposite of him for dinner, causing his friend to look up bewildered.

"And hello to you, too. How my day was? Well, thanks for asking, it was pretty nice-"

"I'm serious. Your advice is shit."

"What are you even talking about?" Steve asked exasperated, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Bucky chewed on his bread grumpily before swallowing. "The letter thing. It's dumb. I need something else."

Sighing, Steve began to stir his soup while looking around, no doubt looking for the Stark kid. Bucky knew the moment he found him, had been aware of the boy from the moment he had entered the canteen, cheerily joking with his newfound friends. Good for him, Bucky thought.

"Well, I don't know. If you can't talk to him like a normal, grown-up person" and at those words Steve threw him a very judgemental stare, "then you could show him through your actions, I guess. Be considerate. Ask him how he's doing, show interest. Offer to be there for him if he wants to talk. Children who went through physical abuse have a harder time to trust people, so don't be pushy."

 _Considerate_ , Bucky wondered for the rest of the dinner, feeling Stevie's worried eyes on him. _Actions_ , those he could do. But what would Tony find considerate?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

In the evenings, Tony vanished in the lab for hours, working on the arm and arguing with it. He had managed to open the outer skin, but the rudimentary mechanics on the inside left him disappointed. There was something he didn't see yet, but for the time he was satisfied with figuring out the mechanical infrastructure of the artificial joints.

Days passed. Bucky didn’t talk to him. And Tony was fine with it.

On Wednesday, Steve waited before dismissing the recruits, wandering the rows of the lined up boys and girls.

"I have an announcement to make. You managed to prove yourself and your physical capabilities in the last weeks", he explained confidently, wandering from one recruit to the next, "Soon you will have the chance to prove that you're also mentally prepared to use your skills on the battleground. In four weeks, there will be a field mission."

Despite the excitement in the air, the recruits remained frighteningly still, and Steve smiled approvingly.

"You will be dropped off in the woods with a mission objective that will have to be accomplished in a limited amount of time. You will be assigned in teams and you will have to work together. So, I advise you to use the next weeks efficiently because you will need all the preparation you can get."

Tony felt absolutely giddy and couldn't help a quick glance at Rhodey next to him.

After Steve released them, the group headed back outside.

"That is so awesome!", Peter shouted while fist bumping, "Do you think we will get guns?"

Rhodey snorted amused, "Paintball guns, maybe. Do you think they will risk you shooting someone?" Peter shouted an indignant "Hey!", but Sam and Tony's giggle agreed with the statement.

"I'll be heading back, guys", Tony waved them off after a few steps and turned away, only for Rhodey to catch up to him.

"Hey, Tones. Where you going?"

"Back to grab some stuff, then heading for the lab. I got a date with a secret project." He grinned proudly. Rhodey huffed, "Look, I'm happy for you but you're spending an awful lot of time in that lab. I thought we could hang out a bit more with the guys, you know?"

"Hey, don’t give me that look. I appreciate the offer, but: secret military project, Platypus."

Tony almost sang the words, eyes getting meaningfully bigger.

"Alright, alright", the older boy finally acquiesced with hands raised in defeat. "super secret project wins, I get it. Just, don’t keep us at arm’s length, okay?"

"Wouldn’t dream of it", Tony quipped good-naturedly before saluting and running off. Rhodes watched him for a few seconds before turning back to the others.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"You gotta be kidding me", sounded a voice and Bucky raised his head, finding Tony staring at him.

He was leaning awkwardly against the wall between his and Tony’s apartment.

"You’re waiting for round two? I’m sorry if my instructions were unclear, but when I said, ‘Let’s talk later’ I meant ‘let’s pretend this never happened and ignore each other from now on.’"

Bucky pushed himself off the wall, stopping a few feet away from the boy with a concrete look on his face.

"What, you think now it’s time you say sorry and all is well? It’s not! You left me in Ross’ office, feeling like an idiot, making me think that I did something wrong when it’s you being a complete dick!"

Bucky dropped his head in defeat, silently listening to Tony spewing the ugly truth. Tony who seemed to get more and more enraged.

"First, you act like you care. And then you just throw me away! What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I’m not a fucking joke!"

Taking a deep breath, Tony looked tired all of a sudden. "What do you want?"

Bucky took a moment to stare at those sad eyes that would not meet his anymore, feeling his bravery leave him by the second.

"I wanted to offer to. To teach you. How to fight."

 _Goddamn, Buck._ He sounded like a complete moron.

Tony finally looked up and seemed to search for something in his expression, but what he found appeared to be lacking as he huffed unamused. "I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you."

With those words Tony pushed himself past the older man but stopped at the door.

"Maybe I should talk to the camp counsellor. Let Natasha know what you did to a young innocent recruit like me."

Bucky didn’t turn around, but he could hear the grim satisfaction in Tony’s voice. Then the apartment door slammed shut. And Bucky felt sick.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Tony remembered when he was little, how proud Howard would be when his son showed him some finished project. Sometimes he wondered if he really enjoyed building or if it was merely an echo of an old feeling, the desire to make Howard happy, make him proud.

Now, Tony couldn't even remember what Howard's praise must have sounded like, what his face looked like turned down to him, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Today Tony didn’t talk to his prosthetic. He didn’t have anything left to say. The emptiness inside him was a pleasant change to the bitter rage he had been carrying for weeks, hidden under smiles and laughter.

Now there was nothing to distract him from his project. Turning and pushing all knobs, he went systematically over the whole surface trying to find a hatch, a little hidden mechanism that would show him some inner secrets.

The accessible inner sections reminded him of industrial machinery, helical gears in all sizes aligned perfectly between metal bars and rings.

He pulled at the outer shell, stronger than metal and almost indestructible, thick as Tony’s thumb. Thicker than necessary.

And suddenly it clicked.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bucky jumped as someone knocked on his door. With an exasperated stick he spotted Steve’s face peering through the window next to the door.

"Creep," he greeted his friend as he opened the door, but Stevie kept his lopsided grin.

"Just wanted to know how your mission went. You were all serious yesterday."

For a moment Bucky imagined Steve finding out about what he’d done with Tony.

"Nothing," he grumbled before clearing his throat," I mean it’s over. The mission."

Steve’s face fell, all sympathy for his friend, forcing Bucky to continue, "I think we’re better off not being friends. Me being his drill sergeant and all."

After brief hesitation, Steve nodded along. "I guess you’re right. Honestly, I shouldn’t have pushed it. It was just so good to see you... care about something again." A rueful smile returned on the blonde’s face. "Guess I got carried away."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, "me, too."

"So," his friend started with a casual tone, "what are you up to now? Wanna spare?"

"Nah," the brunet declined with a sigh, scratching his unkempt hair, "I was just gonna catch some shut eye."

Steve’s smile turned wooden. He took a breath as if to say something but changed his mind and just nodded.

"Well, let me know when you are free."

After a stiff nod, Bucky closed the door. His legs took him back to his bed, but after restless minutes he gave up, settling at the kitchen table with his rifle. Setting the timer, he started disassembling and reassembling his weapon, struggling with the prosthetic, checking his time every round. He didn’t even get close to his average time, failing over and over again.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Since Fury had given him the project, Tony had received his own key card that allowed him access to the lab, to restricted areas only. So, nothing stopped him now from staying until late. He was the last one to leave today, letting the lab door close softy behind him. Ready to head back to his apartment, the boy stopped a second and chanced a glance back. A tall man in a black suit and black shades stood behind him.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark."

"Good evening, Agent K. You out alien hunting here? I knew Director Fury hides something under his eye patch. I could help if you promise not to flashy-thing me, because really, an eye patch? What is he, a pirate?"

The man smiled politely. "A Men in Black reference, how original. My name is Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I think you are more familiar with the shorthand SHIELD."

Tony's mouth fell open. "Hell, Clint wasn't kidding after all."

A knowing grin spread on the agent's face. "Care for a walk?" With a hand gesture the agent invited Tony to follow him and already started to move away before Tony could question if it was such a good idea to follow an unknown guy into the darkness.

But who was he kidding, he was much too curious to resist. Huffing, he followed the man as they settled into a slow walk.

"Did Fury tell you to talk to me?" Tony finally couldn't help but ask, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Not directly," Coulson explained, "I am responsible of the young SHIELD recruits and potential new hires."

"Like Clint," Tony added as realization hit him and the older man nodded, "Like Mr. Barton."

"So, what do you want with me then?"

"You are intelligent enough to know your worth, Mr. Stark. A child prodigy, graduating MIT at 17 – congratulations, by the way – it is obvious SHIELD would be interested in you."

Tony couldn't help but smirk victoriously. Of course, he had known how valuable he could be to SHIELD, but it was nice to hear him proven right, unlike Director Fury's tough attitude that made him feel small and insignificant.

"Is this you telling me to give Fury a chance?"

Agent Coulson stopped and Tony followed his lead after a few steps, turning around. They were at the outer border of the camp.

"This is far enough," the agent explained, and his pleasant mask melted away, showing a grim face. Tony wondered if he should have been worried after all.

"Far enough from what?"

"Curious eyes and ears, Mr. Stark. The lab is a place of high importance to SHIELD. Every step in and out is monitored." Tony's stomach constricted uncomfortably. Coulson finally took his shades off and sent him a knowing look.

"Yes. There is nothing here that SHIELD doesn't know about. Many things happens because Fury allows them to, some only happen because he orders them in the first place. Don't underestimate him."

"That sounds very ominous, coming from a SHIELD agent and all," Tony tried to joke, but the man's face remained impassive.

"My objective is to guide and train high-potential candidates for SHIELD. This is my first lecture for you that I taught Mr. Barton as well: Trust no one. You may be surrounded by allies, but we all have our orders. Don’t expect _anyone_ to watch your sixes. Even if you paid them to. Even if they swear, they will. Trust _no one_."

Taking a step back and putting the glasses back on, Agent Coulson turned to take a look around. "It's getting late. I think it's best if you return to your quarters."

With that he turned around and left Tony speechless for once.

 

He had almost reached his door when a dark shadow fell over Tony. He jumped with an unattractive squeak as he looked around to spot his pursuer.

"Goddamn, Clint!" Tony hissed, albeit quietly because he didn't want to wake anyone at this late hour, "I almost died. That's the third surprise visit today, three too many for my heart!"

"Keep calm, princess," the archer just waved the complaint off, stepping closer, "there is something I came to tell you. I couldn't sneak away earlier. Listen."

He stopped mere inches from Tony, so the younger boy had to look slightly up. He would have complained if Clint hadn't looked so unsettled. "What's wrong?"

"Stone, that's what's wrong," Clint responded, and Tony saw what that was on his face: worry.

"I heard he will be released tomorrow morning. And Tony, he's _pissed_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind comments. I'm trying my best to keep this story exciting for you.  
> As you might guess, Loki will have a bigger role in the next chapters, I'm trying to include Deadpool now, though I'm not sure what's going to happen. For now he is limited to serving as comic relief :D  
> Tony and Bucky will soon start to mend their relationship.  
> I'm super curious how you guys think of all this, so let me know :)


	9. Chapter 9

 

His friends sat in glum silence as Tony entered the canteen.

"What's up, buttercup?", he greeted Rhodey who looked up with a contrite face, lips a thin line. "He's back, Tones."

The boy sighed, nodding sedately. "So, I've heard. Nothing to ruin a Friday like Stone."

"At least he still looks banged-up pretty badly," Peter smirked, "I've heard he went into town and got messed with by a biker gang."

"That's ridiculous," Sam noted, but Peter raised his hands in fake innocence. "Really? Look at him."

Tony followed his head tilt to the other side of the room. His stomach contorted painfully as he recognized the face, familiar even with the bruises in different colours. And Stone was staring right back.

_What kind of accident did that guy have again?_

"Okay, that is creepy," Peter Quill mentioned, looking around, "is he staring at you Tony? Am I the only one seeing this?"

"We gotta do something," Rhodey decided as he turned to Tony.

"I know you didn't want to take action, but if you don't, I will. I'm not waiting until he tries to kill you again."

An eerie silence settled over the table as Sam and Peter shared glances. Tony bit his lips, looking down at his plate.

"Well, we're in," Sam agreed decisively, while Peter nodded along.

"Me, too," came a voice from behind and Tony jumped again.

"Barton, I swear we need to put a bell on you," Tony warned, eyeing the spy in irritation.

Clint rolled his eye as he moved to sit next to him, causing Tony and Rhodey to squash to one end of the bench.

"How are you gonna help anyway? I don't need Fury breathing down my back," Tony warned the other boy.

"I know, and officially I will have no idea what you’re up to. But I know by chance that you're trying to get in touch with our resident trickster."

"How does he know that?" Sam asks the other guys but goes ignored.

"So, let me tell you a story," Clint started with a smirk, his head resting on his hands, "I gamble. With anything that I have, really, mostly with cigarettes. Usually, I win. But when I play cards with Loki, I can be sure to lose everything. That guy probably owns more cigarette packs than I ever smoked. He also never turns down a challenge."

"So, we need to challenge him to a game," Peter concluded, not able to hide his excitement.

"And we need something to gamble. Cigarettes, ideally," Sam added, causing Clint to nod. "But he won't gamble with you guys."

Rhodey's eyebrows scrunched down in question. "What do you mean?"

"Loki likes a challenge. He likes to be surprised, someone who can keep up with his antics. Someone-"

"Like Tony," Rhodey finished for Clint with understanding etched on his face that turned sour soon after. "I don't like it."

"If you want me to go along, you will have to like it, cupcake," Tony singsonged.

"So, you're okay with doing this?" Sam asked, "I expected you to turn us down like last time."

"Let's say Loki is not the only one who likes a challenge," Tony confessed with a nervous smile.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"You look awful."

Bucky didn't react, tired eyes resting on the familiar windowsill.

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," he answered honestly. It was a sombre grey morning, sky overcast by thick clouds. How come it fit his mood so well, Bucky wondered. Or did the day outside of the office window only look dull to him?

"Would you rather go back to your quarters?"

"I don't know." He felt Romanov’s piercing look, waited half-heartedly for her judgement. He heard her sigh.

"You're regressing," she started giving her status report like a clinical file, "you are showing strong signals of emotional and physical withdrawal accompanied by listlessness, similar to your post-rescue phase. Are you giving up, Sergeant Barnes?"

"What's there to give up?"

Suddenly, a loud, dull sound drew his eyes back to Romanov who had slammed her fist on the table, her smooth face showing tightness around her eyes and mouth.

"You're a disgrace."

Her vicious words didn't really offend Bucky, only surprise him. He held his breath as she took a shaky breath.

"You know how long we have been looking for you? Not only Rogers, but others as well, Coulson, Hill. Fury not even once considered dropping the mission. And when we found you, you... You weren't you. I thought that we had truly lost you, after all. But not Rogers." She huffed, shaking her head, but smiling through it. "He would have given everything to get you back."

_I'm with you till the end of the line, pal._

Bucky remembered bits and pieces; fragments which really made him want to forget everything. Stevie's beat-up face, his metal hand around Romanov's neck. He shuddered.

"I don't want to remember."

"You have to!" Romanov's harsh command contrasted with Bucky's whisper. "We fought to get you back! And now you give up? Just like that?" She was standing hunched over her desk, leaning on her stretched arms.

"I know what they did to you – they're horrible things, Barnes. And I will probably never know the whole story. But you can't let them win now. You absolutely can't."

Her passionate words – it sounded strange calling anything about Romanov that, but that's what they were – they gave him warm shivers down his back, causing his breath to hitch as if overwhelmed.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked on a choke, twitching in his seat, not used to the tension he saw in the woman's face.

"You are not alone. Talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me. You have a friend out there who put his whole career on hold for you. Who was ready to die for you. If you can't talk to me, talk to him."

"I can't," Bucky rejected her with a strong head-shake, "I can't do that to Stevie. If he knew, what, what I did, what I-I think every day, what's in my head, he couldn't, I don't, I can't-"

"Then talk to me," Romanov ordered with a strong voice, "I also know what happened with the boy. What you did to him."

Terrified, Bucky glanced up, just about to bail as Romanov’s voice kept him in place. "Stay. It’s fine."

"Fine?!" He was about to lose it, while Romanov just snorted. "Oh come on, he had it coming. I’m not allowed to mess with Stone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like seeing someone else doing us all a favour."

Stone. Of course. Bucky breathed deeply, calming his nerves.  Romanov’s focus remained on him, but her endeavour softened.

"You need to let go. I can take it."

Bucky stared at her with wide eyes, wanting to shake his head. But what else was he supposed to do?

"What is the first thing that you remember?" Romanov had sat down again, her hands folded peacefully in front of her on the table. Bucky gulped. His eyes jumped to the window (it had started to rain), back to the well-manicured hands folded in a light grasp in front of him.

He looked down at his own lap where only one hand was resting, callous fingers with dirt under nails. In the other sleeve the prosthetic hang off motionlessly, a peacefully rigid piece of plastic.

He remembered the first time he had woken and seen that metal _thing_ attached to his body _move_. He hadn't understood why or how, hadn't known where he was or who those people were. He hadn't known yet that he had stopped being human the moment they had gotten their saw in his arm. From then on there were only few things that mattered.

"Pain," he admitted through clenched teeth, "and words."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tony found him where Clint had predicted.

"That seat free?"

Loki looked up with raised eyebrows, hands not stopping mixing the card deck. "Does it look taken?"

Tony glanced around the empty classroom, the only movement being dust particles dancing in the light streaming in through the windows.

"Well, I'll take the risk," he smiled cheekily as he settled in the chair opposite of Loki.

"So, what have I done to deserve the attention of the famous Tony Stark?" the raven-haired boy asked with mirth in his voice, eyes settling back on the cards. He was really pretty, Tony thought, unashamed using the opportunity to stare at the straight nose, the pursed lips and the green eyes that instantly shot up to meet his own. Feeling his pulse speed up, Tony smiled hesitantly, reaching into his pocket and placing the package of cigarettes on the table.

"I'd like to beat you. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Loki grinned, shaking his head.

"That I can't give. I can offer you a round of cards, though."

"Seems fair," Tony agreed, stretching in the chair and settling his arms behind his head, following the other boy's eyes follow his movement.

"What do I get if I win?"

"You want to get in my brother's good graces," Loki bluntly exposed the boy's motive. Tony's smile dropped, but Loki continued unperturbed, "and your wish shall be granted – _if_ you win. But if I win…"

Loki squinted his eyes, smirk never leaving his face, as if there was a joke Tony was missing, "I want one of those patented Stark favours."

Had Clint spilled the beans to Loki as well? Tony tried not to let the surprise show on his face, smirking back smugly.

"Deal."

 

They had decided on five rounds. Tony won the first two – easy, really, he just counted the cards and calculated the possibilities – but then it went downhill real fast. He failed utterly. And what fun that was.

"That's impossible!" he shouted, sitting up and staring at the cards in excited disbelief. Loki laughed, his rigid posture having melted into one of comfort a few rounds ago.

"You cheater! Trickster! How did you do that?" Tony was smiling, all teeth like a kid that had just witnessed a magic trick, but that was exactly what he felt like.

"It's not true if you can't prove it," Loki chastised him, but Tony only shook his head, "You won, I give praise where it's due. But you have to tell me where you pulled that ace out."

Loki's grin matched Tony's now, broad and satisfied. "I might tell you next time. For now, I'll take my Stark favour."

"Okay, rock of ages, spill it."

Rising from his chair, Loki looked down at the younger man. "I want to take you out. Tomorrow night."

Tony froze in his move to get up, jaw dropping. "As in. A date?" he croaked with a suddenly dry mouth, causing Loki's grin to widen.

"Indeed. Wear something nice. I'll meet you up at the east fence at eight."

As he turned to leave, Tony's eyes fell on the untouched package of cigarettes. Grabbing the package, he waved it at Loki's retreating back. "You forgot this!"

Loki turned back with a huff. "I don't smoke. It's just fun to take them away from Barton."

Tony burst out laughing.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

On trembling legs Bucky left Romanov's office, looking around as if seeing the camp for the first time.  He started his march to his quarters but was stopped steps away from his door.

"Buck?" Steve's brows were drawn together as they did so often when looking at his best friend nowadays. "I've uh, I've been calling out to you but – are you okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky started, but halted, "I mean, not really but. Better." He nodded along to his own words, feeling them out on his tongue as they left his mouth, and finding them surprisingly honest. He felt lighter.

Steve's face changed, a subtle shift that probably only Bucky could recognize as hesitantly hopeful. "Really?"

His nervous hope was infecting, and Bucky let out a shaky breath, smiling carefully. "Yeah."

"Better is good," Steve started, only to flounder, "I mean not _good_ , obviously, but. Better is. Better. Right?"

Snorting, Bucky threw his arm over his friend's shoulder. "Stop mumbling, punk. Tell me what you're up to. Wanna go for a drink tomorrow?"

"Ah, I can't," Steve declined quickly, blushing furiously, "I'm going on a – date. With Peggy."

Bucky felt a slight pang at the words. He really had neglected their friendship, too focused on angsting about his life. About Tony. He would have to make it up to Steve.

"No way. You asked her out?"

Even as he rubbed Stevie's blond hair, he saw the face get even redder. "She did."

Laughing, Bucky pulled his friend along to his door. "Come on, I need to hear that story."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tony had managed to dodge Rhodey and the rest of the boys as he still puzzled over the card game with Loki. He wasn't ready to tell them yet, couldn't even guess what Loki's motive might be. And yet, he felt giddy thinking about the next day. With a curious twist on his lips, he downright flew to the lab, whistling on his way to his project, only to open the door to an empty room.

As if it might have been an optical illusion, Tony switched the light on and stepped closer into the room, staring at the bare pedestal.

"Tony," Dr. Banner's voice called out behind him, but Tony didn't move. "Where is it?"

"I'm sorry we have to spring it on you like that. The arm was relocated. Come one, I'll show you the way."

Tony turned to follow, eyes fixed straight ahead, not ready to look the scientist in his eyes. Dr. Banner chatted friendly as if unaware of the tension. "You must know SHIELD monitors all labs, so we were aware of your latest breakthrough. Congratulations, by the way. You have achieved more progress than any engineer of SHIELD. And believe me, many have tried." He huffed a laugh and Tony felt his eyes resting on him but chose to ignore it. Eyes and ears, Agent Coulson had said.

After a short pause, Dr. Banner continued awkwardly. "We didn't really see what was inside the arm, so that's still a secret for you to find out. This lab is much better equipped, see," he stopped and opened a glass door where a much more spacious lab was crammed with various equipment and machines. In the middle, the open crest with the arm rested on a table.

"How do you like it?" Dr. Banner asked as Tony entered the lab, looking at the arm. There were many smudges on the metal surface… As if SHIELD would have missed the opportunity to try themselves after Tony showed them where the secrets lay.

"You have been spying on me," he accused the doctor, aiming his thunderous glare on a surprised face. Dr. Banner aborted the try for a smile, staring at the boy with wide eyes. "Well, of course we weren't letting you operate blindly. What if something happened? We had to watch out for you and-"

"For the project, you mean," Tony corrected him and Dr. Banner's face turned guarded. Tony advanced towards him. "You used me. Tell me you people didn't wait for the first opportunity to snatch the results out of my grasp and try it yourself."

With a deep sigh, Banner took the glasses off his face, pressing his fingers into his eyeballs. "You're blowing this out of proportion, Tony. It may be your project, but the arm is still property of SHIELD. This is not a toy that you can squabble over. You know what we are all dealing with here? What we are producing? Weapons, Tony. Guns, Poisons, Viruses, everything that kills people. All for our country's sake, do you-" he started to speak faster, getting more and more enraged, "do you think we didn't have to cut our losses?  Do you think it was easy to build the gamma bomb?" His breath was coming faster, his eyes seemed to pierce straight through Tony. Scared, the boy moved to back away, only for Dr. Banner to follow his steps, continuing to scream, "You have no idea what I went through, what I had to sacrifice! Only so that more people can die! Even right now, something I made is probably killing people!! Do you think that's something I wanted?!"

Tony felt like all blood had drained from his body, leaving him shaken and afraid. Dr. Banner's face was an ugly twisted mask of rage and Tony didn't dare to speak. He had never seen so much anger aimed at him. Building up his courage, he tried for a friendly tease.

"You're scaring me there a little, doc."

Dr. Banner blinked as if waking from a trance. For a painful second his eyes connected with the boy and Tony saw the moment horrible regret passed over the doctor's face. Then he was looking down, staring at the floor. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Tony. That was – that was uncalled for, that, where are my glasses?"

He leant down, searching the floor, probably using the moment to collect himself a little as well. Seeing his friend crawling over the floor clumsily searching for his glasses, Tony instantly felt guilty. It wasn't Dr. Banner's fault that SHIELD was watching him, instead he had tried to be supportive. Obviously, the good doctor had his own demons to face. Tony felt shitty for unloading his own on top.

"Here, I got your glasses," he called out, stepping over the scientist and grabbing the thin-framed glasses that had been absentmindedly dropped near the door. Dr. Banner got up with a noise of surprise, but still wouldn't face the younger man. Tony would have none of it, pushing the stretched-out hands away and putting the glasses carefully back on Banner's nose.

"There you go," he finished with a crooked smile that seemed to surprise the man.

Nevertheless, Dr. Banner tried one of his own, albeit a shaky one. "Thank you, Tony. Well, this was embarrassing for both of us, I'm afraid. What am I saying, Natasha will probably tease me about it later."

 _Right, cameras_ , Tony thought.

"I better get some fresh air. You can stay and work, if you want. Your key card was programmed to allow you access to this room, so please be careful with the equipment. Bye, Tony."

There were so many things Tony wanted to say but found himself unable to.

"Bye, Dr. Banner."

In the sudden silence, Tony looked around the empty lab, bluntly checking for cameras while he was at it, before his eyes settled on the metal limb.

It was modelled onto a real arm, Tony thought. The rudimentary mechanisms inside, the metal rods and cogs, worked like bones connected by joints. But inside the outer coat, hidden between indestructible plates, a network of wires proved to be the true masterpiece: a hidden microcosm of almost real looking nerves and muscles if it weren’t for the grey surface. Tony had never seen anything like this before. Robotic cells? Synthetic muscle? Did it produce its own energy or sap it from the host? How were electric signals transferred to tell the muscles and plates and clogs how to move? No one knew apparently, because SHIELD hadn't even managed to open the arm.

Tony wanted to rip it apart into tiny pieces and look at them under a microscope, he wanted to put the arm on, he wanted to steal it and hide it in his own private lab where no one would bother them. Until he knew everything about it.

He didn't want to share, scared of losing his project and being forced to hand over all his results. But he was obviously not far enough ahead for SHIELD to dispose of him yet. Also, he _had_ been painfully restricted in his research in the old room.

He would continue working here, Tony supposed, but he would be careful about how much he would share with the class.

Settling in the chair in front of his baby, a part of Tony found himself wishing that Howard had been there. He would have been so amazed, would have shared Tony's excitement. He might have even had some tips for him. But now Tony was on his own.

_Trust no one._

 

*~*~*

 

"You can't be serious."

"About what?" Tony inquired lightly, "that he won? No, believe me, he tricked me somehow. I haven't figured out how yet, but I definitely would have won if-"

"No, Tones, I meant the _date_. You can't seriously consider agreeing to that!"

They had all hunted Tony down in his apartment on Saturday morning after he had managed to dodge them the whole previous day. Unfortunately, the mission report did not satisfy them. At all.

"Why not? He's hot." Tony tried to keep his face serious but couldn't hold back a giggle as Peter snorted his drink out of his nose. "Dude, not cool," he complained as he took the tissue Sam had thrown at his face.

Tony didn't feel any shame though, thinking of the raven-haired boy with that devious grin, imagining what he looked like without a shirt on. Stretched on the bed next to Tony, getting up and climbing in Tony's lap, licking his lips mischievously before leaning down and-

"Oh my god, now he's thinking dirty stuff. That's the face Sam makes when he sees Romanov."

"Shut up, Quill!" Sam shouted, but Peter had already hidden behind the chairback before the older boy could throw something again.

"Tony, get your mind out of the gutter and focus on the problem again, please. You remember, big bad douchebag of a bully? Befriending the Odinson twins? For safety reasons?"

Tony huffed, but Sam only nodded. "Did he say he would introduce you to Thor?"

"No, but there's still time for that later. First, Loki and I need to become friends, get to know each other, and if we happen to get naked during that phase," he ignored Peter's grunted "gross", "then all the better as both sides win. No faster way to get close to someone than by sleeping with them, right?"

"Tones, you can't think that's a good idea after what just happened with-"

Rhodey stopped abruptly and Tony froze, his playful smile falling from his face. "After what?"

His best friend took a deep breath but seemed to think better of it and blew the air out. But his regretful face told a story all on its own.

"Get out," Tony demanded, but nobody moved.

"Tones-," Rhodey tried hesitantly, but Tony just shouted over him, "Out!"

All three boys got up, but Tony's eyes focused on his best friend. "Not you."

He got up from his bed and turned to the window, looking out into the sunny day where Sam and Peter were quietly strolling about.

"Since when have you known?" he asked Rhodey when the silence had stretched on for a while.

"I had a hunch after we sneaked in Ross' office."

"That was…" weeks ago. Tony suddenly had a lump in his throat that he couldn't quite swallow down. Bucky had been mad. He had bossed Tony around, manhandled him and then left him standing with his pants around his ankles. Tony remembered feeling hurt and dejected, worrying what he had done wrong. That was always what people told him, what Howard had told him when he had sent Tony here. He should never have messed with the sergeant.

"And then?" he focused back on the conversation, because Rhodey looked too guilty for just having had a hunch.

"And then I saw him with Stone."

Tony waited, raising his eyebrows expectantly before it hit him.

"The bruises – that was _Bucky_?"

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. That guy can be damn efficient."

Tony remembered Bucky being mad, piercing blue eyes narrowed down on him, lips pressed tightly shut, breathing heavily. Only those situations usually ended with him manhandling Tony, a strong arm around his hip, rough stubble smoothing over his naked throat and pouty lips that were dangerous in their own right. Bucky had always demanded obedience. He had been angry at Tony before, but never with a threat of violence.

Maybe that’s why it was hard to imagine Bucky actually hitting someone. Which was ridiculous, he was a military after all, but that had seemed like a thing from the past. Could that drunkard actually have beaten Stone up?

"Why would he do that?" Tony asked nervously, eyes following his fingers that started to play with the hem of his jacket.

"I haven’t seen the whole thing. His lackeys were running away, so I followed where they came from and ended up behind your apartment. I’m not sure I even want to know what they had planned, but Bucky was furious."

Tony didn’t want to know either, couldn’t even imagine going through something like in the past again. He grabbed his elbows, hugging himself tightly, and Rhodey made a move to get closer, but Tony fixed him with a stern look.

"Did you talk to him?"

Rhodey nodded with a sigh.

"He cares about you, obviously. I told him," his face contorted for a second as if he had bitten in a lemon, "I told him he should treat you better."

And that’s why that jerk tried apologizing, Tony realized. Sinking back down on the bed, Tony looked at his hands.

"Were you all," waving his arms around, he looked up at his friend, "Rhodeybear about it?"

Rhodey tried to look irritated, but Tony didn’t budge and maintained eye contact until his friend relented and rolled his eyes. "I might have threatened him a little, just to make sure he would listen."

"Oh my god, you’re no better than me!" Tony complained loudly, hands hiding his face.

"Well he’s a grown-ass man who came on to a child,"

"Actually, I came on to him," Tony corrected quickly.

Grumbling, Rhodey continued, "a grown-ass man who let a child come on to him. He’s our sergeant, for Christ’s sake! It’s his job to make sure nothing like that happens in the first place, but instead he even allowed it!"

"Well, I can be very convincing," Tony tried hesitantly for a joke, not willing to have another conversation about guilt and responsibility.

After a moment, Rhodey gave in and sat down next to his friend.

"Still mad?"

He bumped his shoulder against Tony’s, throwing him a hopeful smile, but only getting a pout back.

"Yes. You shouldn’t have gone behind my back. But I will forgive you. Eventually."

Rhodey nodded with grudging acceptance when they heard a knock against the window.

Peter Quill’s face was smashed against the glass, Sam’s own face not far behind him, and Tony heard muffled words.

"Not to ruin your bro moment, but if Tony stopped being a diva, can we get back in? It’s kinda cold out here, and boring. Don’t know what’s worse."

"Definitely worse to be stuck out here with you," Sam supplied helpfully after coming back in.

"You guys," Tony started, and didn’t even know how he would end that phrase. Rhodey only grinned, that traitor.

 

*~*~*

 

Tony whistled appreciatively as he spotted Loki leaning against the fence with crossed arms. Dressed in a dark green dress shirt and black slacks he could be mistaken for a model from next week's cover, looking effortlessly fashionable.

"Seems like I'm not the only one with privileges," Tony mused, eyeing the wrinkle-free clothes. Never have those been stuffed into an army locker.

"Well, being a diplomat's son does have its perks," Loki explained with pleasant smile, eyeing Tony in return, "I can't complain about the view, either."

Grinning satisfied, Tony moved up to the taller boy, both looking at the two-meter high fence. "So, how are we getting out?"

"Don't tell me you don't have an idea. I'd be disappointed," Loki baited him with a knowing smirk, and Tony took it without thinking.

"Do you even know me? I always have an idea. See that door over there? It's locked by an electric mechanism and if you give me three minutes, I'd be able to cut the electricity in the lock with a metal…

Tony turned to Loki, only to see him dangle a key in front of his face.

"Or we could use that. Boring."

"But faster," Loki retorted with a chuckle, unlocking the door and gesturing Tony to step through, following him closely.

They wandered through the forest until they reached the street leading into town. It was late and pretty dark, but since Sunday was a day off, most militaries were out in town tonight. As they didn't want to risk being caught, they stuck close to the dark trees.

"We're pretty similar in that regard," Loki decided after they had talked about their special circumstances, "my father does not care about me either, instead telling me to follow my brother. Of course, that big oaf would go to the dumbest, most savage hellhole he could find. They are racist and sexist, it's unbelievable. They even told me to shave my head."

Loki shuddered in disgust.

"So, how did you get away?" Tony asked curiously. The question had been on his mind forever.

"I am a Sikh. It's against my religion," Loki explained with a straight face that made Tony stop dead, only to double over laughing as Loki's mask crumbled and he cackled evilly.

"Told you, the dumbest."

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

"You seem nervous."

Steve dropped the knife he had been playing with, which clattered loudly onto the porcelain plate. "Huh?"

When he looked up, Peggy had an amused smile on her face, her lips, unusually red tonight, lifted in one corner. She looked gorgeous in a blouse and a skirt; her chestnut hair smoothed into beautiful waves. Not that she didn't look stunning in her military outfit, but this felt different, more personal. Just looking at her made him-

"Steve?"

"Uh, no, all good," he tried a wobbly smile before focusing back on the menu. God, he felt like a little school kid again. _Stop being a dork_ , he heard a voice in his head that sounded a lot like the old Bucky. _Keep eye contact, compliment her. Be charming._

"I've heard the burgers here are amazing," Peggy went on and Steve chanced a glance up at her. She was eyeing the menu, a smile still playing around her lips.

"Sounds great," he agreed relieved, dropping the menu. "Didn't think you were a burger girl."

"Oh?" Peggy leaned on her elbows after the waiter took their order, looking expectantly at Steve. "So, you thought I would be one of those health-crazed girls, count calories, order a salad and ask for the dressing on the side?"

"No, that would normally be me," Steve admitted, squeezing the napkin in his lap under the table as he felt heat rising in his cheeks. Peggy's eyes sparkled. "Do you also order diet coke?"

"Oh please," the blonde scoffed, "as if that is a healthy alternative. I'll stick with water, thank you."

Peggy laughed, her hand coming up and holding her heart. Steve filed the adorable mannerism away. "Only you, Steve," she chuckled, shaking her head, and Steve hoped he hadn't disappointed her already.

"Guess I'm not as tough as they say," he mused half-heartedly, looking down at his plate, white and empty like a canvass. He wished he could stop time and draw a picture of this moment, just in case.

"No," Peggy agreed, and Steve had to hide his hurt as she continued, "you're better."

Her gaze was warm, but strong. "I know what you did for Bucky. Not everyone would do that."

"He's my best friend. He'd do the same for me," Steve tried brushing her off, slightly uncomfortable at the praise. Peggy said nothing, just eyed him quietly as they were served their food. She was right, the burger was delicious, and Steve was happy he had strayed from his usual dinner routine, only to see her satisfied grin.

"I heard Fury offered you a mission," she suddenly mentioned after staring at her wine for a while. Steve only nodded, unsure where she would their conversation.

"Don't look at me so scared. I was just wondering," she shook her head with a smirk, twirling the wine glass, "do you think you will return to the field one day?"

Steve took the time to actually think how he wanted to answer before replying, "I think so. I want to, eventually."

"You could also stay, you know? Fury can find someone else to rope into his campaigns. The kids look up to you, they love you."

"Thank you," Steve breathed out, focusing on Peggy's hopeful face, "but I can't. There's more that I can do out there. And the people who had Bucky, they're still out there."

With mild resignation on her face, Peggy looked down at his hands. Steve realized they were clenched into tight fists and made an effort to relax them again. She huffed, looking around before her eyes settled again on Steve.

"You see," she says, her expression determined, "you're a great man, Steven Rogers."

"Soo," Steve started hesitantly, his fingers squeezing the napkin again before chancing a look up, "that means you would like to go out with me again?"

Peggy's smile was radiant, and Steve knew, if she asked, he would promise to always return to her.

 Suddenly, there was the sound of commotion coming from outside, muffled shouts coming through the opened door as someone else stormed out of the restaurant.

"What's going on there?" Peggy asked, getting up with Steve who quickly put some money on the table before following. This was the closest town to the SHIELD camp, so there was a pretty high chance some military might be involved. They hurried to the bar on the other side of the street where a group had gathered under a flashing red bar sign. There were four guys and a girl that were surrounding two other guys. One person lay on the ground, holding their nose.

"What the hell?" someone shouted, as the group seemed to get ready for a fight. "Stop right there!" Peggy shouted in her sergeant voice, causing the group to stop and turn to her. The surrounded two men, boys really, Steve realized, wanted to use the distraction to run off and backed off slowly. It was dark and the red neon sign didn't offer much light, but the boys, one with long black hair, the other an inch or three shorter, seemed terribly familiar. Steve squinted.

"Tony?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so in love with your comments, thank you really.  
> It may seem like I'm straying from the Bucky and Tony romance, but Loki and Tony won't end up together in the end, so please bear with me a little longer.  
> Also, Loki is really insensitive in what he says, specifically about religions in this chapter, but it's just part of Loki's arrogant character and not my opinion as you hopefully understood :)  
> So, what do you think? Do you like to see Loki? Not sure how close he and Tony are going to get to be honest, but I look forward to Bucky's reaction :D


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